


A Lowkey Kind of Love Story

by Cydersyrup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Body Modification, Crack Treated Seriously, DO NOT TRY THIS YOU MIGHT GET ARRESTED, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Past Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Post-Break Up, Reconciliation, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Taeyong's a bit of an ass in this I'M SORRY, Toilets, college shenanigans, eventually, yea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydersyrup/pseuds/Cydersyrup
Summary: “Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, visibly surprised. “What are you doing out so late?”He doesn’t even mention that Doyoung’s literally standing in the middle of the street holding a half-ass toilet in his hands (not whole-ass, because Yuta already ran off with the tank). Hell, Jaehyun’s not even looking at the toilet. He’s staring right into Doyoung’s eyes, posture lax underneath his heavy winter coat.“I’m out for a walk,” Doyoung says.“Pretty late for a walk, isn’t it?”“I was having a crisis.”(Or: Doyoung's less-than-orthodox recovery process from heartbreak, a guide)
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 111
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Ducks behind a table*  
> Okay HEAR ME OUT—  
> I rlly don't mean to pit anyone as the bad guy here, but I got stuck on the role and I have a name bucket to help me w/ that and IT HAS SPOKEN. I know he's a sweetheart irl but just pls bear w/ me here.  
> Most of this (w/ the exception of a *specific* coping method) is just from some collective irl experience and it's actually a lot lighter than the tags might imply just...trust me.

Heartbreak is a chaotic event with organized consequences.

Usually, when people break up with their partner whom they’ve dated for years, they cry, eat a pint of ice cream a day, and find solace in their best friends. They’ll be in a funk for a couple days, maybe even weeks, and lose some sense of good hygiene practices. Their friends will shower them with unconditional support and love, and make them feel like they’re still a worthy human being and that their ex is just a complete asshole. Then, eventually they move on, stop watching sad romance movies and bawling their eyes out, and change their playlist from ‘breakup’ to ‘fuck you, I’m gonna be happy’.

But then again, they’re not Kim Doyoung.

There’s supposed to be a generic sequence of events when it comes to going through a breakup, but Doyoung decides to take that status quo and turn it inside-out and ass over elbows, because he _can_.

So when Doyoung gets his heart broken, there’s only one series of events that runs through his head.

  1. Be gay
  2. Do crime
  3. Get fucked—in whichever form it will come to him.



He’s already accomplished the first step. Doyoung has enough pictures of himself and his ex-boyfriend on his wall and saved to his phone for it to be considered full homo, and it’s clear enough from the choices he makes that he is in fact, very gay.

Like, Taeyong is a great person. He was a great boyfriend. He treated Doyoung like he was everything good and lovely in the world, and was always there for him. He’s sweet, kind, and sincere to a fault. His skills are great in the kitchen, in academics, and in bed. 

They’ve started out as friends in college, then after a couple months of pining and some classic Tom and Jerry back-and-forth, Doyoung finally swallowed his pride and asked Taeyong out, and they started going out. And everything from then on out, is history.

Three years.

A whole three years spent in bliss and the occasional argument here and there. It was never big, and they always made up afterwards with some homemade sweets and a healthy amount of sex. 

But amazing sex aside, there were other benefits to dating Taeyong. Unlike Doyoung, who’s socially reclusive and has a bad habit of being too sardonic for his own good, Taeyong’s sweet personality drew people towards him like bees to pollen. His friend group was massive, and when they first started going out, Taeyong introduced Doyoung to his horde of friends. He didn’t know what to expect, but they were incredibly supportive and welcoming, and Doyoung was sucked in quickly. 

Johnny, Taeyong’s best friend, is charming and unfairly beautiful, with long blonde hair and a modelesque build. He DJ’s at a nightclub on the weekends, and it’s because of him that Doyoung manages to have a good time every now and then downtown without completely blowing out his bank account. 

Taeil, Taeyong’s roommate, is fatherly and adorable, small in stature with a voice that can shatter glass when he’s screaming. Literally. They’ve tested it out—in the name of science, of course. Doyoung even has a video of it saved on his phone. Sometimes he’ll set it as his alarm tone when he’s feeling particularly spiteful towards the world and himself.

Ten, Taeyong’s fellow dance team member, is as delightful as he is mischievous. Sure, he gets on Doyoung’s nerves sometimes, but he makes him laugh even more with his sharp wit and hyper-sexualized comments. He can always trust Ten to make the shitty days a little better. Or worse, if whatever Ten decides to do goes wrong.

Jungwoo, a pharmacology student, is funny and the most supportive person Doyoung’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s always down for study sessions and bakes the best brownies, even though Doyoung’s sure that 8/10 times the brownies are spiked with something. It doesn’t matter, though, because the sweets themselves are delicious and the end results are always blackmail-worthy.

Jaehyun, an art student, is completely unbothered most of the time and has more ink covering him than not. Doyoung remembers embarrassing himself the first time they met, when Jaehyun had stuck out a hand to shake, and he told Jaehyun that his palm was dirty. All he got in return was a blank stare and a quiet reply of “I promise, my hand’s not dirty.”

God, Doyoung wakes up in the morning kicking himself in the ass for that comment, _to this day_.

All in all though, Doyoung thinks those are some of the fondest memories he has. Not just with Taeyong, but of everything that came with him. He gained a loving, if somewhat chaotic group of friends to keep him company whether he likes it or not, a great boyfriend, and tons of romantic and friend dates all over the city and beyond.

But then fucking December of their senior year in college came, and Doyoung rues the day he decided to open his heart.

He hasn’t spoken to Taeyong in over two weeks since finals week started thrashing its ugly head around. They live separately—Taeyong with Taeil off campus, and Doyoung in a cramped studio apartment on campus that barely counts as a living space. It’s late, almost midnight, and Doyoung’s writing up an essay when his phone pings with the notification of an incoming message.

Doyoung makes the mistake of checking his phone right then and there.

He also makes the mistake of letting his emotions rule him, because Doyoung doesn’t even finish reading the very, VERY long text message before he feels his heart starting to break.

And if there’s one thing Doyoung absolutely loathes to deal with, it’s broken hearts. His or others. He doesn’t know what to do with such a strong emotion. His body is aching for violence, but he’s been raised to manifest his rage into words instead of broken knuckles.

Backed into a metaphorical corner, Doyoung does the only thing he can think of at the moment. He sets his phone aside and throws a slipper at his sleeping roommate, maybe a little harder than necessary. 

“Get up, loser. We’re going out.”

Yuta startles awake and rubs his forehead where the slipper has conked him. “Wha—?” he mumbles sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sits up in bed. “Whatchu want?”

Doyoung fights the urge to cry, but a tear still slips out. “I have vengeance to deliver.”

“What?” Yuta frowns and gets up, crossing the distance between them and wiping away the tear on Doyoung’s cheek. “Who hurt you?”

Doyoung shoots him a blank stare. Yuta’s eyes narrow in confusion, then widen in realization, and his lips pinch into a tight pucker. He opens his arms, and Doyoung collapses into him. Yuta holds him gently, rocking slightly on his feet, and Doyoung just wants to break down sobbing. But he doesn’t, because more than being heartbroken and sad, Doyoung’s frustrated and angry.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Doie,” Yuta whispers, pressing a kiss to Doyoung’s temple. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Doyoung says into the rumpled fabric of Yuta’s t-shirt. “Just get dressed and come help me do something I’ll probably get arrested for.”

And under any other circumstance, with any other person, the reasonable response to his request should be some form of rejection, because jail in December is not a fun place to be.

But Nakamoto Yuta is different. He’s been Doyoung’s friend—his only one—since they were in elementary school. He’s seen enough of Doyoung’s shit fits and breakdowns over the years to publish a manual with, and Doyoung’s proud to say that they’ve reached the point of friend-telepathy. Yuta knows what’s on his mind, and because he’s a fucking asshole, he doesn’t try to stop Doyoung. Instead, he gets ready in record time and says, “What’s the plan?”

So here they are, at step two of Doyoung’s three-step recovery process.

“Y’know, for once I’m actually impressed by your creepy memory,” Yuta says, shivering slightly in his hoodie. His arms are firmly crossed over his chest, the head of a monkey wrench poking out from under his elbow.

Doyoung’s not even sure why Yuta decided to bring the wrench in the first place. All he told him was to prepare to do some stealing. Not vandalism.

Taeyong’s usually not home until almost two in the morning on Fridays, because of dance rehearsals, and Taeil should be on his night shift at the hospital. They’ve got two hours to work with, and Doyoung plans on making every second count.

“I know his passcode,” he mutters as they stop in front of Taeyong’s door and start punching in the familiar numbers into the lock. “I can get us in, and from there on out, we gotta work fast. Steal something that’ll kill him to live without. I want him to suffer.”

Doyoung doesn’t know how exactly Yuta learned this, but he’s just left with a “Leave it to me!” before his friend disappears into Taeyong’s flat. Doyoung follows, and lingers by the foyer, because he doesn’t trust himself to venture any further without tearing the entire place to pieces.

Taeyong’s apartment is the same as when he last visited it, almost a month ago. The walls are strewn with fairy lights, and the furniture are all warm-toned and a little worn. There’s a bunch of polaroids strung in a zig-zag pattern along the walls, and Doyoung knows that more than half of them has him in it.

Three years gone, over text. Taeyong didn’t even take the time to get rid of the memorabilia before he decided to end three years worth of love over a massively-abbreviated paragraph.

Doyoung’s angry. He’s furious. But more than that, he’s hurt. How can someone love so earnestly and wholly, then retract everything in one minute, without even a proper conversation? He thought they really had something. That no matter what, they can make it work.

And now, he doesn’t know anymore. He believed that even over a couple weeks of not seeing each other and sparse communication, that once circumstances are better and they can see each other again, that things will instantly return to normal.

But apparently, a couple weeks is already too long. Long enough for someone to fall out of love.

Or maybe, Taeyong never really loved him at all.

The urge to cry comes slamming back again, almost violent in how it curls Doyoung’s guts and makes his breath stop completely in his throat. It’s almost as though his pain has manifested into a sentient being and is just choking him, killing him from the inside out. But Doyoung doesn’t get to indulge in the misery of it all, because right then, Yuta comes back out holding a toilet bowl in his hands.

“Here,” he says, handing the bowl over to Doyoung. “You hold this. I’m going back in for the tank.”

Doyoung stares down at the empty toilet bowl in his hands. “Yuta,” he says calmly. “When I said we should steal something that he absolutely can’t live without, I didn’t mean a fucking toilet.”

“No, but it makes sense! Think about it.” Yuta wipes his hands on his pants with a grin that’s borderline sinister. “If you ain’t got anywhere to piss or shit properly, that’s maddening. Like a shower is fine for piss and all, but where’s the shit gonna go? And you and I both know that Taeil’s barely in here anyways, so it won’t bother him that bad. It’ll drive Taeyong fucking nuts though, just trust me.”

Nothing good ever happens when Yuta says “trust me”, but Doyoung’s not dead yet, so he bites.

“Fine. Hurry up. We gotta go before they come back.”

Yuta nods, and disappears back inside. He emerges a minute later, holding the toilet tank in his hands, his wrench tucked through a belt loop. “Okay. Let’s beat it before we get our asses beat.”

The walk back to their dorm feels more like a walk of shame than every night Doyoung’s been kicked out of Taeyong’s apartment after a fight, and somehow, it feels fitting. 

Doyoung’s an idiot. He should’ve known that everything about his relationship with Taeyong was too perfect to be true. But he was blinded by love and as a result, they’re both paying the price. His heart is broken, and now, so is Taeyong’s indoor plumbing.

Take that, _asshole_.

Yuta’s a few paces ahead of him now, and Doyoung struggles to catch up. Damn Yuta and his dedication to working out consistently. Doyoung’s got about the same amount of weight in his hands, but he already feels winded.

About halfway between the apartment complex and the university, however, Doyoung bumps into someone. In his defense, it’s dark, so he doesn’t see the guy pop out from around the corner. He’s also wearing all black, which isn’t really helping the whole visibility case.

Doyoung stops, an apology on his tongue, when he suddenly catches sight of the guy’s face.

“Oh my god.” Doyoung feels the blood in his arms freeze, even through two jackets and a coat. “Jaehyun?”

He honestly doesn’t expect to see anyone at this time of night, least of all Jaehyun. The other man is just standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and looking more like a floating head over his body.

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, visibly surprised. “What are you doing out so late?”

He doesn’t even mention that Doyoung’s literally standing in the middle of the street holding a half-ass toilet in his hands (not whole-ass, because Yuta already ran off with the tank). Hell, Jaehyun’s not even looking at the toilet. He’s staring right into Doyoung’s eyes, posture lax underneath his heavy winter coat.

“I’m out for a walk,” Doyoung says.

“Pretty late for a walk, isn’t it?”

“I was having a crisis.”

Jaehyun crosses his arms and finally glances down at the toilet bowl Doyoung’s firmly clutching. “I can see that.”

Doyoung wants to hide the toilet behind him, but it’s a little hard to maneuver a 40-pound hunk of porcelain around him and not have it shatter to the ground. So instead, he flushes and averts his gaze with all the dignity of a man caught stealing sanitary ware.

“You didn’t see anything here tonight. I’m gonna go back to my place with this, and we will never speak another word of this ever again. Capiche?”

Jaehyun nods, expression alarmingly blank for someone who just walked in on a guy stealing a toilet. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Doyoung doesn’t believe it. “Just okay?”

Jaehyun cracks a small smile. "Look, I get it. You’re stressed out and need to let it out somehow. And hey, everyone's got a questionable coping method. Yuta's scalp is about to fall off his head and Ten has more holes in his body than moles. You're fine."

Doyoung looks down at the porcelain in his hands. "Yeah, but I doubt anyone went as far as stealing a _toilet_."

"I mean, it could always be worse." Jaehyun shrugs. "Take me for example. I inject ink into my skin with needles to cope. It's painful and expensive as all hell. So stealing a toilet? I'd say that's healthier than half the decisions the rest of us are making."

“I’m committing a crime,” Doyoung deadpans.

“Streaking in public is a crime too,” Jaehyun replies. “But that doesn’t stop Kunhang and Yukhei now, does it?”

“Public indecency and theft are two different charges, Jaehyun.”

“If you’re gonna risk being arrested, might as well make the risk more badass and less embarrassing, right?”

“Jae,” Doyoung begins. “I’m holding a fucking _toilet_.”

“I can see that.” Jaehyun nods. “You need help? It looks heavy.”

Doyoung shakes his head, because even if the toilet bowl is heavy, it’s easier to run away with it when there’s just one person holding it. And Jaehyun is too nice for his own good. He should watch out for that trait of his. One day it might land him in trouble.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Suit yourself.” Jaehyun turns and begins walking away.

“Wait!” Doyoung calls, stumbling a couple steps after him. “You’re not gonna...tell anyone about this, are you?” He really hopes Jaehyun doesn’t. Having word spread about how he’s stealing his ex’s toilet would just be a low blow to his already unsavory reputation.

Jaehyun turns, and it’s impossible to read his eyes in the dark. He could be amused, or utterly disgusted, but all Doyoung can make out from the context of the rest of his face is uncaring nonchalance.

“No,” he says. “I mean, I could, but frankly speaking, what you do is your business and I don’t care about it enough to get involved.”

Doyoung doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. Jaehyun tends to have that effect on people.

“Oh. Well, uh, thanks. I’ll just...be going now.”

Jaehyun nods. “Don’t trip.”


	2. Chapter 2

It takes exactly two days and fourteen hours for Taeyong to show up outside Doyoung’s door, looking equal parts frazzled and angry.

“I know you did it,” he says the moment Doyoung opens the door. Taeil is standing behind him, trying very hard not to laugh. “Where’s my fucking toilet?”

Doyoung shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance when his heart still stings with betrayal at the sight of Taeyong’s face. To the trained eye (i.e. Yuta), his performance wouldn’t be any more convincing than the tale of the tooth fairy, but neither Taeyong or Taeil has reached that level of expertise yet. He keeps the door purposefully half-closed, hiding the disassembled toilet that’s resting just outside the closet.

Taeyong is glaring at him, waiting for an answer with his arms crossed and hip cocked. There’s none of that sweetness now. Just sour, bitter anger. Doyoung half wants to punch him square in the eye, and half wants to pull him into a hug and beg him for an explanation. He wants to know why. He needs to know exactly where he’s not good enough for Taeyong to be considered a permanent fixture in his life.

But if there’s anything that Doyoung is, it’s petty. And that by default overrides any and all sorts of rage and heartbroken curiosity. 

So instead, he says, “Why are you asking me? What happened to your toilet anyways?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Doyoung. I know you had something to do with it.” Taeyong huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “But wow, I can’t believe you’d stoop this low. Stealing a whole toilet? Why? Is this because I broke up with you?”

Doyoung clicks his tongue. “Yong, if this was over you severing three years’ worth of affection, devotion, and intimacy over one long-ass text, I guarantee you, you’d be missing a lot more than your toilet right now.” His eyes flicker down to Taeyong’s crotch. “Try reproductive activity, of any kind. And maybe your entire savings.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I can memorize every license plate I see and what you wore and ate three months, two weeks, and five days ago. And practically every day before that.” Doyoung arches a brow. “Wanna bet?”

Taeyong’s lips part like they’re about to say something, but he blows it away along with a lock of his hair. “Fine. But don’t think you have me fooled, Doyoung. I know you’re involved, and I will find out.”

Doyoung lifts his arms and does a pathetic rendition of scared jazz hands. “Oh, no. Woe is me when this asshole lays false theft charges to my name! How can I live it down? I didn’t rob him blind, but I stole his motherfucking toilet!”

Taeil starts cackling in the background. Taeyong shoots Doyoung one last indignant glare before he turns and stomps off like a petulant toddler, muttering something about useless roommates and toilet-stealing bastards.

“Look,” Taeil says to Doyoung once Taeyong’s out of earshot. “I don’t much care about the theft, because I don’t use that bathroom, anyways. But how did you do it?”

Doyoung purses his lips.

“Ah. Right.” Taeil pulls out his phone and scrolls through his pictures before selecting one. Doyoung hears the familiar tone of an airdrop delivery, and checks his own phone. To his delight, he sees a picture of Taeyong, noticeably drunk and hanging off the balcony of some random frat house, one ankle in Johnny’s grasp and the other in Jaehyun’s. He’s vomiting straight down onto a poor unsuspecting girl, and his shirt is riding up his chest.

“Christ.” Doyoung whistles. “When was this?”

“Last week. Some rando’s house party Johnny got commissioned to DJ at. He didn’t invite you because well,” Taeil cuts off with a shrug, but it’s enough for Doyoung to understand the meaning behind it. At that point, Taeyong already stopped caring about him. He didn’t invite Doyoung because he didn’t want him around.

“This is beautiful.” Doyoung saves the picture into his blackmail file and emails himself a copy, just in case. “So, what do you want to know?”

Taeil’s lips curl into a devious smile. “Well, obviously, whether you really did it or not. And more importantly, how.”

“To answer you honestly,” Doyoung replies. “Yes. I did it. But I have no idea how. You’ll have to ask Yuta for that one.”

Taeil nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Okay. That was one blackmail payment well-spent.”

“Oh, it’s well-spent, alright.” Doyoung can think of a million things to do with that picture, now that it’s in his hands. “You’re surprisingly chill with this.”

“He was an asshole to just dump you like that,” Taeil says, and his eyes soften with genuine concern and pity. “I’m sorry, Doyoung. I really am. You don’t deserve it. I’ve tried to talk to him, but you know Taeyong. Sometimes he’s just—”

“A headass. I know.” The words are acid on his tongue, and Doyoung fights the urge to spit, because it’ll splatter the wrong person. “Thanks, though. You know, you’re still welcome here anytime, right?”

“I know.” Taeil steps forward and envelops Doyoung in a warm, cinnamon-scented hug. “I’ll visit sometime. And don’t worry, I won’t tell. I kinda wanna see him suffer too.”

Doyoung laughs. “You’re a gem, Taeil.”

“I just hate seeing my friends hurt.” Taeil steps back and taps Doyoung’s chest lightly. “Now, you take care of yourself. Eat and sleep well. If you need anything, I’m a call away. Or if you need more blackmail, I’m your man. Word of advice, though. I suggest you eventually sneak the toilet back before he presses charges.”

Doyoung wonders why he never tried dating Taeil before. He thinks they’ll get along just peachy. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Taeil nods, and leaves with a skip in his step and humming a happy little tune. Doyoung’s heart is still shattered from Taeyong’s words and actions, but Taeil’s genuine care and chipperness is a temporary salve to dull the pain.

* * *

They hide the toilet in the closet, sprayed down with disinfectant and mummified with bubble wrap. 

“So it won’t stink or break,” Doyoung explains through the fourth layer of poppable plastic while Yuta stands idly behind him, popping a small square of the stuff. “Yuta, a little help would be much appreciated, thank you.”

“Right.” Yuta pulls out a roll of duct tape and rips a piece off. He hands it to Doyoung, who plasters it against the crosswork of gray on the mound already. “By the way, Taeil called me up the other day. He wanted to know how we did it.”

“And?”

“He offered me cookies. I couldn’t say no.” Yuta tears off another piece of tape. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t exhort a dirty favor from him so he could get what he wants.”

Touché. “It’s just business.”

“Right.” Yuta’s tone is disbelieving and they both snort at that. “So what’s the dirt? What’d you get from that slick bastard?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that Johnny and Jae were trying to save Taeyong from falling to his death and he gave a poor girl a vomit shower while he’s at it?”

Yuta slaps another piece of tape into Doyoung’s hand as he starts cracking up. “Jesus Christ, I wish I was there to witness that! Gimme the picture.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes as he continues to wrap up the toilet bowl. “It’s in our shared blackmail file, where the fuck were you?”

“Sleeping. Or out with Jungwoo, getting really high. Depends on what time of the day he visited.”

“You were probably out getting high.”

Yuta nods. “Yep! And he sent me back with some brownies, ‘cause he knows you don’t like smoking. Want one?”

“Maybe later.” A brownie does sound good, though. “Right now, I need you to clear your shoes out of the way so I can fit this sucker in.”

They manage to cram the toilet into the tiny closet, and spend the rest of the day gorging themselves silly with brownies and watching funny kdramas on their shared bed. 

But unfortunately, a high Doyoung is an emotional Doyoung. 

So even though the leads of the drama they’re watching are hilarious while trying to get each other’s attention, he still bursts out into ugly sobs. Doyoung doesn’t want to admit it, but everything the drama couple does reminds him of the stupid stunts he used to pull with Taeyong.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to watch right now,” Yuta says sympathetically, shutting off his laptop and pulling Doyoung into his lap. “C’mon, let it out. Let it all out.”

Doyoung clings to his best friend and cries like he’s never cried before. He tries to talk, but even he can’t make sense of the garbled mess that’s spewing from his mouth.

Yuta seems to understand it perfectly well, though. He always has. “I know,” he murmurs softly, stroking Doyoung’s hair and gently rocking him back and forth. “He was such an asshole. You deserve so much better.”

“I—ugh—I can’t belie—three—I just—uwaaahhh!”

“Oh, baby.” Yuta hugs him tighter and gently presses his head against Doyoung’s. “Oh, poor baby. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Taeyong wasn’t worthy of you. You’re so beautiful and perfect. You hear me? You’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice drops to a more aggressive pitch. “How dare that bastard hurt my baby. I can’t fucking believe it. He had me fooled too. I swear, I’ll beat him like a fucking gong if he dares show his face around here again.”

Doyoung wails louder, and wonders what exactly he’s done in his life to deserve Nakamoto Yuta as his best friend.

“Yuta,” he sniffles when he’s calmed down enough to speak coherently again. “I need to ask you something.”

Yuta leans back so he’s looking Doyoung straight in the eyes. And Doyoung knows how ugly he must look now, with his eyes red and snot dripping from his nose and face swollen and blotchy from how hard he’s cried. Yet, Yuta continues looking at him with the same tender care and concern.

“What is it, Doie?”

“If I asked you to, would you fuck me?” Doyoung whimpers. “I can’t—I need to get past this.”

Yuta’s lips part in surprise, then tug into an apologetic smile. The sight of it breaks Doyoung’s heart on a whole other dimension. It’s not the sharp, stabbing pain of a heart shattered by romance, but a dull, throbbing pain from knowing that he’s being let down as gently as possible.

Rejected.

“I’m sorry, Doie. I love you, don’t get me wrong. I love you a lot. But I can’t take advantage of your vulnerability like this,” Yuta whispers.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I want it.”

“No, you don’t.” Yuta’s eyes are knowing, and Doyoung feels like he’s stripped naked from how intense Yuta’s gaze is. Those rich, dark orbs are staring right past him, down to his soul. “You’re high as fuck, Doie. We both are. Don’t do something that we’ll both regret a couple days from now.”

“Yuta, I need it.” Doyoung sits back on Yuta’s thighs and wipes his face messily with his sleeve. “I can’t stand myself anymore. I just want this to go away.”

“It will, trust me,” Yuta assures, reaching in with his own sleeves to gently dab away some snot and tears. “But us fucking isn’t gonna get you anywhere. I’d kill myself if what we do ends up breaking you further.”

“But you love me.”

“I’ve always loved you, Doie. And I always will. But I don’t love you the way you should be loved, y’know? It’s not that kind of love.” Yuta leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Doyoung’s cheek. “You’re hurt. I know. But no need to rush the healing process, okay? Just focus on getting better right now.”

Doyoung nods, and leans forward, snuggling into Yuta’s hold. “Hold me?”

He feels Yuta’s lips curve into a smile against his cheek. “For as long as you need, baby.”

* * *

Moving on is hard.

It’s even harder when the feelings are so real and genuine, and the memories are still so fresh. Every loving moment, every caress, every sweet word plays back in Doyoung’s head like they occurred days, hours, minutes before.

Sometimes he curses his hyper-efficient memory. Especially when all he wants to do is forget.

There’s many ways to forget, but after his high breakdown, Yuta has been extremely cautious to make sure that Doyung doesn’t fall into any unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Stealing toilets aside.

Back in high school, when Doyoung had hated himself more often than not, he had resorted to a series of torturous coping methods that ended up with frantic calls to Yuta and them spending the better part of an hour wiping blood off the bathroom tiles.

He can see that Yuta’s taking no chances now. The kitchen knives are gone, so are the scissors, repair tools, and anything sharper than the edge of a piece of paper. Even most of the pens and pencils are gone. Doyoung has no idea where they could’ve all disappeared, but knowing Yuta, none of it’s in their apartment anymore. And even if they were, they’re hidden in places Doyoung will never look for.

All the pictures of him and Taeyong vanish as well—from the walls, from his phone, and from Yuta’s phone. Even the pictures Yuta saved of them for blackmail purposes are deleted from the files, so Doyoung knows he’s serious.

It used to annoy him, how overprotective Yuta is.

But now, seeing his best friend look at him with so much care and worry in his eyes, Doyoung can’t help but feel grateful that Yuta values his safety so much. It reminds him that even though he was made to feel like he’s no longer worth loving, that there are still people in the world who love him.

“I was an idiot to give you away,” Yuta says one night, when they’re cuddled up in bed, close and together in their safe space. His voice is heavy with guilt and a heartbreak of his own. “God, I was such a fool. I let you get hurt.”

“Shush,” Doyoung says, pressing Yuta’s lips closed with his fingers and gently bumping their foreheads together. He wants to cry, but the tears have all dried up. “None of this was your fault. I was an idiot too. I didn’t know any better.”

“I should’ve trusted my gut—”

“Trusted your gut, my ass. You were as charmed as I was. We were both blind.”

Yuta hums noncommittally, and pulls Doyoung ever closer to himself. The embrace is warm and familiar, and Doyoung wonders if there’s anyone in the world who can make him feel just as comfortable. Just as protected. Just as loved.

Maybe there is.

And maybe there’s not.

* * *

At the very least, Doyoung’s not missing any meals. Yuta makes sure of that. And once he calls Jungwoo, there’s no end to the supply of fresh-baked goods that seems to flood into their apartment every other day.

Once, Doyoung comes home from his part-time job to an entire platter of eggplant lasagna, wrapped up and sliced like it had been catered. Yuta’s sitting at the table, setting down plates and insisting Doyoung sit down and eat.

Doyoung looks at the large slice of lasagna on his plate and pokes at it disinterestedly with his fork.

“Did you make this?”

“Me?” Yuta snorts. “You’re kidding, right? It’ll take me four years and maybe a miracle to pull off something like this. Nah, Johnny called. Asked how you were doing. Then he came and dropped this off.”

The fork falls from Doyoung’s hand. “Johnny brought this?” He hasn’t seen Johnny in almost a month. He doesn’t even call or text him that much anymore. Even more so now, with the mess of the breakup and all.

Yuta nods. “Yeah. He knows what happened.”

Doyoung looks back down at the lasagna. “But he’s...not _my_ best friend. Why would he even bother going this far for me?”

“Hey, hey.” A wooden spoon smacks the space in front of his plate, effectively drawing Doyoung’s attention to it. “None of that,” Yuta says firmly, waving the spoon around. “Johnny’s a great guy. He cares for all his friends like family. And you, sir, are no exception. He knows you probably might not want to see him right now, so he’s sad. And he cooks when he’s sad. So don’t waste the fruit of his big mushy heart and eat your goddamn food.”

And because Doyoung’s terribly, horribly fond of Johnny, he shuts up and eats his goddamn food.

It’s delicious.

He’ll have to ask Johnny for the recipe someday.

Someday, when the thought of Johnny doesn't automatically make him remember Taeyong.


	3. Chapter 3

Doyoung deletes his messages with Taeyong, and kicks himself out of all the group chats he’s in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to any of their mutual friends ever again, but he’s just not ready to.

He blocks Taeyong on all social media platforms and after a moment of thought, ends up deactivating most of the accounts and deleting the apps from his phone.

Yuta calls this phase “the social purge”. Doyoung thinks that maybe he’s onto something, because he’s not in the mood for any form of social interaction, digital or otherwise. He just wants to spend this period of time focusing on himself. Doing his own thing. No longer being obligated to consider the feelings of anyone else.

And it’s nice, being able to be selfish for a little while. Doyoung studies his ass off for finals and picks up extra shifts at the grocery store where he works. He passes exams with great scores and earns some more pocket money to pay for some decent vegetables that both he and Yuta are in dire need of.

Finals week passes in a haze, and the days blend together like a weird gray ombre on an equally-gray canvas. Doyoung’s sure that if he didn’t have a habit of crossing out each day from his calendar, he wouldn’t even know what day of the week it is.

But this too, is a part of the process. Doyoung wouldn’t say that he’s depressed anymore, but he’s definitely jaded. He doesn’t feel like doing anything else but work and study. There’s not even adequate time to whine to Yuta anymore, because his best friend is just as busy with his own exams and part-time job, and they’re rarely in the apartment at the same time unless it’s at night.

Doyoung doesn’t mind.

The world will continue to spin whether he likes it or not, and people will still have lives outside of him.

So Doyoung accepts that he has a life outside of other people, too.

* * *

For a couple days, Doyoung almost forgets that he had been brutally dumped and stole a toilet in an impulsive act of unhinged coping.

Almost.

But as luck would have it, Doyoung sees Jaehyun again a few days later, when winter break has officially begun and they’re completely liberated from any and all academic responsibilities.

And just like that, he’s suddenly reminded of that night, when he had held a toilet bowl at midnight, catching Jaehyun’s eye from across a couple meters of sidewalk in the dark. Just them and the moonlight for company. It’s almost romantic, if the circumstances weren’t as fucked up and the toilet wasn’t involved. 

Though to be completely fair, he had kind of expected that they’d see each other again so soon. Jaehyun doesn’t live far from campus. In fact, he lives in the same apartment complex as Taeyong, because he has money that Doyoung doesn’t. So it’s not exactly surprising to run into him in the middle of the day, strolling down the street with a bag in his hands and eyes gazing at everything but the path ahead of him.

Doyoung watches him trip over a curb, and feels absolutely no shame in laughing at Jaehyun’s startled expression as he quickly catches himself. “Nice going, Jung. Couldn’t have asked for a better way to start my day.”

Jaehyun blinks, and pulls out his phone to check the time. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

“And I just woke up half an hour ago, so therefore, perfect start.”

“Doyoung.” Jaehyun pockets his phone, and the look he levels at Doyoung is serious. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine.” Doyoung’s eyes narrow when Jaehyun’s expression remains fairly grave. He’s sure that he looks presentable enough to not look like he’s kind of dying inside. His clothes are washed, his hair combed, and he even used a bit of concealer to hide his dark circles. “Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs, jostling the bag in his hold and making half of his face disappear under his giant black scarf. “People have been talking. I heard what happened.” 

“Oh.” Doyoung’s shoulders sag a little as he sighs. It’s been a week, and he’s managed to survive most of it through bad jokes and lots of weed brownies. He’s not ready to discuss the nature of his breakup to anyone else just yet. Not sober, at least. “So you know.”

“I know.” Jaehyun’s eyes turn sad, and Doyoung hates how it looks so unnatural on him. “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone needs to stop saying that to me,” Doyoung says, digging his hands further into his pockets. “It’s not like you’re the one who broke up with me over text, anyways. It’s not your place to apologize.”

“But still, it was a dick move and you don’t deserve to be hurt like that.” 

Doyoung chuckles weakly. “God, you all need to stop being so goddamned nice to me. I might accidentally fall for one of you idiots.”

“That won’t really be an accident, would it?” Jaehyun’s lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile. He doesn’t bring up the encounter with the toilet. Doyoung hopes that he hasn’t connected the dots yet. “Have you eaten?

“No. I was actually gonna go grab something from around the corner. Why?”

Jaehyun jerks a thumb behind him. “Wanna go get some chicken? There’s this cafe down the street that sells popcorn chicken and boba, and I’ve been kind of dying to try it out.”

Doyoung weighs his options. His original plan for the day had been to just grab a sandwich and go back to his apartment so he can finally finish the thriller novel he’s been reading on-and-off for the better half of the year. Just him and his loneliness (and Yuta). He can suffer with nobody around to hear him sob or curse or break shit when the door’s closed (except Yuta).

His heart is still broken, and it still hurts. Jaehyun probably knows that already. And Doyoung knows that even though Jaehyun looks like he couldn’t care less about the things going on around him, he still cares to an extent.

And all things considered, he’s probably the best person beside Yuta to spend time with. If Jaehyun doesn’t even bat an eye at Doyoung stealing a toilet out of spite, he doubts anything he might say could throw the other man off.

“What the hell, fine.” Doyoung sighs and steps forward to walk next to Jaehyun. “I guess I should spend some time outside my crusty-ass apartment, anyways.”

“I’ve been to your apartment before. It’s not crusty. A bit cluttered, but not crusty.”

“Obviously you’ve never seen a man in the midst of heartbreak. The effects it has on his living space is exquisite.”

Jaehyun laughs, tossing his head back and letting out a breath that instantly forms a waft of vapor above his face. Doyoung can make out just the tips of his intricate neck tattoo peeking out from above the scarf. He almost forgot that Jaehyun had it, with how bundled up he is.

“Good,” Jaehyun wheezes between chortles. “That’s good.”

“What? That my apartment is a clusterfuck?”

“No.” Jaehyun turns and flashes Doyoung a bright, toothy smile. “I’m glad you’re still talking like yourself.”

Doyoung frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s never been particularly good at deciphering Jaehyun-speak. That’s all he can call those somewhat vaguely-worded sentences that can come across as either reassuring or infuriating.

“It means, I’m glad you’re holding strong.” 

“Easily, with the right amount of weed brownies and your best friend listing all the ways he’ll murder and dispose of your ex. I find the methods after three brownies particularly amusing.”

“Huh. I’ve gotta hear some of Yuta’s high ideas someday.” Jaehyun pauses outside a cafe Doyoung has never noticed before and holds the door open. “After you.”

“How polite.”

The inside of the cafe is cute, all pastel tones and matching white chairs and tables. The air inside is warm and smells like a mix of tea and savory seasonings. The menu flashes across large TV monitors, with the words clear enough for Doyoung to read properly without his glasses on. 

They each order a cup of boba and a serving of popcorn chicken, and Doyoung watches in mild disgust as Jaehyun proceeds to drown his chicken in sweet chili sauce.

“You do know that the chicken is already seasoned, right?”

“Yeah, but this is the perfect way to eat them.” Jaehyun stabs a piece of chicken with a skewer and lifts it up. “Crunchy, slimy, and loaded with sugar and salt. Here’s to a heart attack.” He pops it into his mouth with relish.

Doyoung can’t help the laugh that escapes him as he watches Jaehyun eat his soggy chicken. “I’ll drink to that.” He lifts his boba and takes a sip. “Here’s to dying young. We’ve seen it all, haven’t we?”

Jaehyun’s gaze is soft and hard to read as he meets Doyoung’s eyes. “We’ve seen a lot, yeah.” He sips his own boba, chewing thoughtfully on the pearls. “But there’s always more to see in the world.”

Doyoung still doesn’t understand Jaehyun very well, but his tone of voice alone is enough to ease his nerves. The words are still vague and said with a flippant, dismissive air, but Jaehyun is smiling, and his eyes are kind.

He doesn’t ask Doyoung what he did with the toilet.

He doesn’t ask him to spill the details of the breakup from his point of view.

He doesn’t even mention Taeyong, the entire time they’re together.

What he does, however, is make offhanded comments about the rest of their friend group. The things he says always walk a fine line between amusing and callous, and had anyone mentioned in his spiels been here with them, Doyoung’s sure Jaehyun would’ve been punched at least twice for his comments already.

And it’s fine. It’s _fun_. Doyoung can’t even remember to be upset when he’s talking with Jaehyun.

For someone seemingly so oblivious and unbothered, Jaehyun has a scary amount of dirt on all of their friends. Doyoung included.

“How do you even know all this?” Doyoung asks after Jaehyun recalls how Johnny drunkenly got his dick stuck in a hydroflask one time. 

Jaehyun smiles, serene and secretive. “I just see things.”

“You are scary.”

“I don’t think I am. Demon on my neck aside, it’s not like I’m gonna ruin someone’s life by knowing their secrets.” His smile turns wry as he turns towards Doyoung. “That sounds more like a you thing.”

“You’d be right.” Doyoung finishes his boba. “So. Johnny and a hydro, huh?”

“A pink one, might I add.”

Doyoung grins. “Do tell me more.”

* * *

Yuta eyes him warily when Doyoung returns to the apartment. He’s actually cleaning, which is rare enough of itself, so Doyoung doesn’t mention anything about it. There’s music blasting from the portable speaker, some holiday pop song that Doyoung recognizes but can’t place the title to.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Doyoung unties his shoes and sets them by the door. “How was your day?”

“Chill. Been trying to clean up this shithole. Can’t have you drowning in disgusting when life’s already shit, y’know?”

Doyoung’s chest warms with affection, because that's the most thoughtful thing Yuta has done for him so far. So it's well-deserved when he walks up to Yuta and hugs him from behind, and Yuta instantly relaxes into his touch.

“Did you eat the wrong medicine or something?”

“You mean yours? Yeah, might’ve popped a pill or two. And now I’m just another neurotic bastard who cringes at the sight of dust.”

“Shut up, you.”

Yuta turns around, and he’s grinning. “You seem happier today.”

Doyoung blinks. “I do?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Oh.” Doyoung thinks back to the hour he spent with Jaehyun, and how he’s now full of boba and greasy popcorn chicken. “I bumped into Jaehyun on my way out. We had lunch together.”

“Jae?” Yuta’s grin widens even further. “Man, I love Jae. How’s he doing? I haven’t seen his flat ass around here in a while.”

“He’s fine. He scares me, lowkey.”

“Jae?” Yuta barks out a laugh. “That man’s more of a menace to himself than to a fly. He’s about as scary as a wet baby poodle.”

“He knows things.”

Yuta’s smile drops a little. “Really? What kind of things?”

Doyoung shudders just thinking about it. “The kind of things that could ruin everyone’s social and maybe work lives forever. Perhaps even the kind of things that can break relationships and wreck homes. Depends on how much detail he decides to recall, I guess.”

“Damn. And here I thought we had the upper hand on everyone.”

“We thought wrong.”

“How’d you get him to spill all of that?”

“I didn’t. He told me on his own.” Doyoung shrugs. “He probably didn’t care that I know.”

Something in Yuta’s eyes shifts, and Doyoung can tell that he’s suddenly thinking very hard.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Did he…” Yuta bites at his bottom lip, eyes flickering off to the side briefly before focusing back on Doyoung. “Did he mention anything about you-know-who?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes fondly. “No, he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t mention anything about the breakup that hasn’t been told to me already. It’s been like a week. I’m fine now.”

“Are you, though?” Yuta’s eyes narrow in an almost catlike fashion. “Are you really?”

“Yeah.” He pointedly ignores the blurred memory of sobbing into Yuta’s arms and practically begging his best friend to fuck him. That was one moment of severe vulnerability. Doyoung won’t let himself fall that low again. “So, anything I can help you with?”

“The bathtub could use a good scrubbing,” Yuta says, following the topic change easily. “I’m pretty sure the last time anyone gave it a good clean was like, the 1980’s or something.”

Doyoung scrunches his nose. Their bathtub is kind of disgusting. It’s why they always wear sandals in the shower. “Alright, I’ll get cracking on it.”

They clean together in relative peace, the only sounds ringing out being more loud Christmas songs and the occasional curse when one of them knocks into something.

It’s been a week since the worst night of Doyoung’s entire life.

And he’s healing, he knows it. Not fully, but he’s getting there. At the very least, Doyoung’s at least moved on from the phase of crying and making very bad decisions in order to deal with his feelings. Now, he just wants to keep busy. 

Someway. 

Somehow.

By the end of the day, the apartment is clean, almost shining when all the supplies are put away. The counters are wiped down, the sinks and tub disinfected and scrubbed within an inch of the pipes, and the carpet vacuumed twice over. They’ve collected all the junk that’s accumulated over the course of the semester and threw it out, and Doyoung reorganized their kitchen equipment.

Everything is tidy now. Even the blinds have been dusted and the oven thoroughly soaped out. Yuta collapses onto a chair and Doyoung brews them both a pot of coffee. They drink through it slowly, basking in each other’s company and the results of a job well done.

And they both ignore how the closet is the one place that hasn’t been cleaned.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaehyun is eccentric.

Not on the level of Taeil, who wakes up at the asscrack of dawn and can function perfectly fine in an emergency room until the next dawn, or Ten, who can quite literally rest his own feet on his shoulders, but he’s odd.

Doyoung has never seen or been around Jaehyun much when they first met, but now, he seems to run into him everywhere.

When he’s out for a walk around the neighborhood, Jaehyun’s somewhere along the street. Sometimes alone, but mostly with Jungwoo or Johnny.

When Doyoung goes to work at the grocery store, Jaehyun’s there—a shopping basket slung over one arm and face half-hidden by a ridiculously big scarf as he looks over tomatoes and avocados. 

And he’s there when Doyoung picks up Yuta from his job at the nearby café, sipping something from a paper cup and drawing away on his huge sketchbook like it’s nobody’s motherfucking business. The inside of the cafe is nice and cozy, but he’s still got one of those big fat scarves wrapped halfway around his head. Doyoung doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jaehyun without a scarf in the winter. Or autumn, now that he takes the time to actually remember things.

It can’t be a coincidence that Jaehyun’s now literally everywhere Doyoung is. It must be a sign.

But for what?

That he hasn’t forgotten about the toilet incident and is holding it against Doyoung? That seems unlikely. Jaehyun isn’t that kind of person. Or at least, Doyoung sincerely hopes he’s not.

Maybe he’s actively looking for Doyoung. Maybe he wants to talk to him again. Or take him out for another lunch get-together. But that’s also unlikely, because each time Doyoung sees him, Jaehyun’s either with someone or completely distracted by something else.

So then what? What’s the reason? Why is Doyoung suddenly seeing Jaehyun literally everywhere? There has to be some kind of logical explanation behind it.

 _“Have you ever considered,”_ Taeil drawls when Doyoung calls and complains to him. _“That maybe he’s just an ordinary guy trying to live his life? Kinda like how we are?”_

Doyoung shakes his head. “Yeah, but you know how we weren’t exactly the tightest back then, and then BAM—he catches—I mean I steal a toilet, and all of a sudden he’s all over the place? It doesn’t make sense.”

_“It’s a small neighborhood, and we’re all grown men. He’s allowed to go anywhere he likes in a mile-radius.”_

“But I see him _everywhere_.”

Taeil sighs softly. _“Doyoung, listen to me. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s_ _been everywhere, but your head was so far up in someone else’s ass for you to see it.”_

Ouch. That’s a low blow, but Doyoung doesn’t bother protesting, because it’s also painfully accurate. 

“Okay, fine. But why is it just me always seeing him around? Why aren’t you bumping into him left and right?”

Taeil laughs, and the delighted sound only further adds to Doyoung’s confusion. _“Doyoung, he’s been going everywhere, all the time. We live in the same complex. Even if I spend most of my time outside that place, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna see him around sometime. Jaehyun’s just like that. He’s always moving around. You can’t escape that guy.”_

Doyoung pouts. He doesn’t like losing arguments, but this one is taking him nowhere. And as much as he hates to admit it, Taeil has made some pretty solid points. He’s probably just overthinking this entire thing.

Jaehyun is a grown man, and he can do whatever he wants.

And for the love of all things holy, Doyoung has got to stop doing that teenage emo thing called overthinking and— _gag_ —romanticizing.

 _Especially_ romanticizing.

Because from his personal experience, romantic love is just a big bomb of disappointment waiting to blow up.

Fuck that love.

* * *

“Do you know why he broke it off with you?”

“Sorta, from what I remember about the text.”

Yuta bites his lips contemplatively. “Do you...wanna talk it out?”

The book in Doyoung's hands snaps closed with a loud _crack_. “Not really.”

“Okay.”

Doyoung settles back against Yuta’s chest on the bed, and feels the beat of his heart. The slow, steady ba-dumps set a steady rhythm for his own heart to follow. One beat out of sync. Two. Three.

And then they’re in tandem.

Yuta’s fingers gently run through Doyoung’s hair, and it’s so different from how Taeyong used to pet him. His hands are rougher, more calloused, and there’s no sweet words to follow with the affectionate gesture.

“What do you want for Christmas?” he asks instead.

Doyoung racks his brain for his Christmas wishlist and winces inwardly. “Nothing that you can afford.”

Yuta shrugs, and it’s like everything’s perfectly normal again. “Well, I have my body and seven dollars to my name. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Yeah? And I have boundaries and some semblance of empathy, so fuck off and keep your money.”

"If my shitty memory serves me right, you weren't saying that about a week—"

Doyoung reaches for the nearest pillow and slams it into Yuta's face. He'd smother him completely if he could, but that would make him a bad friend. And if there's one thing Doyoung prides himself in, it's being a good friend, so he ends up just whumping Yuta in the face with the pillow a couple more times, with each time harder than the last. "Shut up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, Nakamoto. You'll do it if you know what's good for you."

Yuta starts cracking up, and his laugh is so obnoxiously loud, like he's using all the air in his chest to express his delight. Doyoung can feel his eardrum threatening to break. 

“Oh, you’re not getting rid of me, baby. We’ve been together for too long.”

“Unfortunately.” He continues to hit Yuta with the pillow.

"Okay, okay okay! I yield! I fucking yield, stop— _mmph_ —stop hitting me!"

"No."

"I won't mention it ever again!" Yuta bargains through his laughter. "So please stop hitting me! This is domestic abuse!"

Doyoung stops hitting him. The pillow is starting to get kind of lumpy and misshapen, anyways. "Not a word."

“No, sir. So…” Yuta’s voice trails off as his eyes dart to their closet, staring at the elephant in the room dead in the eye. “Should we like, ever return that thing?”

“What thing?”

“The flushy thing.”

Doyoung scoffs. “Sure, maybe. You can return it when I’m dead.”

“Fair enough.”

“If we’re ever gonna return it, we’re not returning it in one piece.”

“Well, we don’t have a sledgehammer here, but I can ask Ten or Johnny—”

“No,” Doyoung cuts in. “I mean, when I feel like being civil again, all he’s getting back is the tank lid.”

Yuta’s gaze softens, and his fingers resume their stroking through Doyoung’s hair. “You’re still mad at him, huh?”

An ugly, burning feeling unfurls inside Doyoung’s chest. It’s not heavy enough to be hurt, and not quite light enough to activate his instinct to punch someone. So he settles for a curt, “Pissed.”

“Okay then,” Yuta says, agreeing in that easy way of his. “So we won’t return it. Now, do me a favor and turn off the lamp, wouldya? I’m tired.”

Doyoung agrees. He flicks off the lamp, and Yuta pulls the covers over both of them. They don’t have nearly enough blankets to combat the winter cold, and heating is too expensive. But they have each other, matching sets of sweats, and shared exhaustion.

And for the moment, Doyoung doesn’t need anything else.

* * *

“You, my friend, look like you need some dick.”

“Wow. Good morning to you too, Ten.”

Ten grins and leans up to kiss Doyoung’s cheek. The rings of his spider bites dig against Doyoung’s skin and leaves a funny, tingling sensation behind. “Good morning, sweet bunny. It's been too long. Now, let me in so I can feed you and tell you that you need to get some.”

Doyoung sighs. He’s glad Yuta already left for his shift at the café, because god forbid if he and Ten are in the same room together. He knows they both mean well, but Doyoung might end up killing one of them if they team up to hound his ass.

“Somebody cleaned up,” Ten says, dropping his bag of ingredients on the kitchen counter as his eyes rake over the tiny expanse of the kitchen. “What happened to all the clutter and shit? Did you finally get Yuta to toss all that junk out?”

“Actually, he got to the cleaning before I did.”

“Huh?”

Doyoung sighs. “It’s been kind of a rough week. For both of us.”

“Oh, honey boo.” Ten pats his arm sympathetically. “Trust me when I say you really deserve so much better. And look, I’ve known Taeyong a long time, and you might not want to hear this from me, but he’s—he’s a good person at heart. He just...made some really bad choices.”

“Well, that’s an understatement.”

“I know. And I know that nothing I say can undo what he did, but if it’ll make you feel any better, the moment I found out that you two were over I grilled his ass for the truth.”

“Did he give it to you?”

Ten smirks. “He tried to lie, but he can’t bullshit me. I beat his ass afterwards for that. I don’t care if he’s got a couple inches on me, I was furious.”

“You beat his ass?” Doyoung can’t believe it. Ten loves Taeyong. Absolutely adores him to pieces. He’d threatened Doyoung with castration when they first started dating, and the threats still linger in his mind, along with all the nightmares they’ve caused.

And yet, it’s Taeyong who Ten beat up?

That’s unheard of.

“Why did you beat his ass?”

Ten looks at Doyoung like he’s stupid, which—judging from his last question—is totally fair. “As much as I love Taeyong, he was a jackass. I got mad and had to fuck somebody up."

“God, how bad did you beat him?” Doyoung catches himself and silently curses. He shouldn’t even care how badly Taeyong was beaten. He should be happy, if anything else. Yet somehow, it doesn’t feel right.

“Oh, don’t you worry, it’s nothing that’ll damage his pretty face and body more than his pride,” Ten huffs. “I told him that he better suck it up and apologize to you properly. Or else.”

The threat isn’t even directed at him, but Doyoung gulps anyway. “Let’s hope he does.”

“Let’s do. He was also bitching about how someone stole his toilet.” Ten lets out an ugly snort and eyes Doyoung like he already knows the truth. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

“Not a thing,” Doyoung lies through his teeth.

The smile he gets back is anything but believing. “Suuuuure. Now—” Ten claps his hands together and turns back to the kitchen. “—how do you like your pancakes? With berries? Bananas? I bought chocolate chips too.” He pulls out a frying pan from a cabinet and sets it on the stove. “Also, what I came here for. Right. Doyoung, honey, you need to get yourself out there and hop on some fine dick. And not just any fine dick. But a gentleman kind of dick. A distinguished dick. A dick whose owner will look at you like you’re worth the entire world and make sure your heart’s never broken again.”

Doyoung winces. “Ten, that’s a pretty tall order. I just had my relationship of three years ended. I dunno if I can even find someone like that out there this soon.”

Ten scoffs as he pulls out a mixing bowl and rubber spatula. “Sure there are. In fact, I’m willing to bet that half of our friend group’s willing to fuck you into the mattress. You’re a hot piece of ass, sweetheart. We’re not blind.”

“Ten, you have a boyfriend.”

“Whom I’m very faithful to,” Ten agrees. “But I can appreciate male beauty when I see it. Do you want me to call Kun? He’ll say the same thing. He might even know some people who're willing to dick you down.”

“No, thanks.” As much as Doyoung would like a nice fuck to get over the residual post-breakup mindfuck, he’s not looking forward to just having a one-night-stand. His heart can’t take it. He’s had over a week to deal with his feelings and emotional instability, and has come to the conclusion that this phase isn’t just about sex anymore—he needs actual love and affection. 

He needs to move on.

Ten watches him with this soft, thoughtful expression, and for once, he doesn’t look like he’s up to no good. He makes them both pancakes, plus some extra for Yuta, and they eat together at the little table that doubles as a desk. Ten drowns his pancakes in berries and loads of syrup, and Doyoung’s pancakes are generously spotted with chocolate chips and topped with bananas and chocolate sauce.

They eat a few bites of their own plates, before switching.

“Come with us on Friday,” Ten says right before he leaves, bag slung over his shoulder. “I know it’s not really your scene, but Jaehyun’s shop is doing a discounted event for body mods, and I dunno, if you wanna get punched with more holes or inked up, it might help you out a little.”

Oh. Jaehyun again. He seems to be a fairly constant denominator of all of Doyoung’s interactions recently. And he’s not a big believer in fate or destiny, but the universe is definitely screaming something into his ear. Doyoung just wishes that the universe will stop doing its weird sims manipulation thing and tell it to him straight.

“Actually, that sounds like something you and Jae would be more into.” Doyoung looks at himself. His skin is clear, a little pale, and completely void of any decorations. He doesn’t even have his ears pierced. He’s always been afraid of the pain.

“You can bring Yuta with you, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Would it? It might. Yuta had plenty of piercings done, from his ears to his belly button. Doyoung never really considered getting himself pierced, but if step three of his recovery plan won’t involve getting fucked in a literal sense, he might as well make of it what he may.

“Sure, I guess. I’ll bring him with me. Where are we meeting?”

Ten beams and pulls his phone out. “Don’t you worry your pretty head over that. Just dress comfortably and I’ll be over to pick you up at seven. If you want anything done, I really suggest you think nice and hard about it, mkay?” He leans forward to kiss Doyoung’s cheek again. “See you then, sexy.”

It’s an idea, and it’s certainly one that he’s never tried before. Like Jaehyun said, tattoos can be pricey, and Doyoung doesn’t know if he can afford one, even if it’s small. Piercings though, he might be able to afford on his pitiful allowance. 

So for the next hour, Doyoung scrolls through Pinterest, looking around and not sure what he’s looking for.

He ends up asking Yuta for advice, and spends the rest of the day being stared at.


	5. Chapter 5

Turns out, a tattoo shop really isn’t Doyoung’s scene.

It’s a nice place, clean and decorated in modern, monochrome furnishings, but it’s just...not his place. The buzzing of tattoo machines gives him mild anxiety, and seeing all these people with their bodies inked up while he’s sitting here, plain and boring, isn’t exactly helping the cause.

But hey, piercings are 30% off, and tattoos have a starting price of $50. The shop is packed with people, either getting inked in the booths or sitting around the waiting area. It’s a good night for business.

Ten writes Doyoung in for a session with the piercing artist, who shows up fifteen minutes after they arrive, wearing a low-cut t-shirt and ripped jeans. He’s young, probably around Doyoung’s age, and has a lovely smile that’s only accentuated by his snake bites.

“Hey there,” he says in a voice that’s surprisingly low but just as sweet as his smile. “Doyoung, right? I’m Sicheng, and I’ll be your piercing artist. How can I help you this evening?”

“He needs to look hot,” Yuta butts in before Doyoung can even get a word out. The way he speaks to the artist is friendly and familiar, and it doesn’t take Doyoung too long to realize that it’s probably because Sicheng is Yuta’s piercing artist also. “We need you to work your magic on this pretty face here, Chengie.”

Sicheng giggles and it’s such a sweet, sweet sound. Doyoung kind of wants to be his friend. “No problem there! What about you, Yuta? Can I help you with anything, or are you just here for moral support?”

“I have an appointment with Jae, actually.” Yuta cranes his neck in an attempt to look at the neatly-sectioned tattooing stations. And out of sheer curiosity—and curiosity alone—Doyoung mimics him.

“Where’s Jaehyun?”

“He should be done in a bit. When’s your appointment?”

“Half past seven.”

“Yeah, he’ll be with you soon, then. It’s flash day, so you know how it gets. Now,” he turns to Doyoung. “What about you, Doyoung? Do you have anything particular in mind?” 

Yuta pushes Doyoung forward after giving him a _look_ , and Doyoung knows that he’s left on his own. 

“Uh...may we discuss this in private?”

Sicheng nods, gesturing to a room in the back. “Of course.”

The piercing room is open and everything in it is snowy, almost fitting a winter wonderland theme. There’s some cute holiday decorations hanging from the walls, and the entire space smells like peppermint mocha. Sicheng gestures for Doyoung to have a seat on a padded chair, and sits himself down on a tall stool by the marble countertop.

“So, what can I do for you tonight, Doyoung?”

“Actually,” Doyoung says, poking at his lower lip. “Before we talk piercings, can I ask you something?”

Sicheng smiles. “Sure. Shoot.”

It must be the new atmosphere. Or how cute Sicheng is. Or maybe Doyoung’s still a bit emotional from the residual heartbreak from nearly two weeks ago, because he looks Sicheng right in the eye and blurts out, “Will you be my friend?”

Doyoung watches as Sicheng’s eye does a funny twitch, and he realizes belatedly just how creepy he sounded. Here he is, meeting someone for the first time ever, and not even three minutes in, he’s asking the guy to be his friend. Doyoung must be on a completely new level of stupid today.

Right as he’s about to stutter out an apology and possibly run out from this shop, a grin breaks out over Sicheng’s face, and he lets out the most endearing laugh Doyoung has ever heard. 

“Sure! Of course we can be friends!” Sicheng says, hopping off his stool and offering a tattooed hand to Doyung. “I love making new friends! And Yuta will literally not shut up about you, so it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Yuta usually won’t shut up unless you pay him,” Doyoung replies, shaking Sicheng’s hand. “But for real, he talks about me?”

“Yeah, like all the time.” Sicheng rolls his eyes fondly. “I swear, if he doesn’t have the hots for one of our new artists, I’d totally peg him as whipped for you.” 

Oh. That’s new. Doyoung doesn’t delve much into Yuta’s personal life, but it's good information to know. “I appreciate the sentiment, but yeah, we’re just friends. I’ve known him since he had big glasses and no front teeth. It’s hard to fall in love with someone when you already know how ugly they were.”

Sicheng laughs. “You’re funny, Doyoung.”

“Thank you. Trauma tends to up the humor factor.”

“Unfortunate turn of events, but desirable consequences, so I won’t question you on that.” Sicheng claps his hands together in anticipation. “Now, do you know what type of piercing you’d like?”

Doyoung tells him, still feeling slightly afraid of the ensuing pain, but Sicheng takes it all in stride, murmuring reassurances and even offering Doyoung a bottle of water to sip on to help ease his nerves. When the time comes, Sicheng’s hands are gentle, and his equipment perfectly poised as he fixes Doyoung with a labret and a double helix on his left ear. 

It hurts, but not nearly as bad as Doyoung expects. The pain overrides any other thoughts in his mind for a while, and he can kind of understand why Ten might find this appealing now.

“Make sure you swish salt water in your mouth for thirty seconds every time after you eat and before you go to bed,” Sicheng instructs as he hands Doyoung a bottle of antiseptic for his ear. “Don't touch the piercings, try to avoid eating any spicy food for about six to eight weeks, and clean your ear piercings with this solution three times a day for six weeks. If there's any swelling around the piercings, disinfect the area and try using a clean ice compress over it.”

“Thank you, Sicheng,” Doyoung says carefully around the new stud in his lip. The piercing itself is still a bit painful and the end of the stud presses in a funny way against his tongue. “This helped me more than I can explain to you. Maybe if you’re free, we can all get dinner sometime.”

Sicheng smiles softly. “That’d be nice. I hope to see you soon, Doyoung.”

Doyoung goes home that night with a sore lip and ear, a new friend in his contact list, and Yuta whining about how much his shoulder hurts after Jaehyun got through with him.

It’s a new turn of events.

He knows that Jaehyun had been there, but for the first time in a while, Doyoung doesn’t see him.

And it feels _weird_.

* * *

It’s another three days later when Taeyong shows up outside Doyoung’s door again, this time without Taeil and clearly very not sober.

“Doie,” he slurs, eyes red and teary. His clothes are rumpled and reek of alcohol. “Hey.”

Panic rises in Doyoung, because unlike the last visit, Taeyong is visibly sad. And to make matters worse, it’s almost midnight, which means it’s two hours past Doyoung’s emotional curfew. Also, his lip is tender and so is his ear. His face hurts, his heart hurts, and he’s nowhere near compassionate or intoxicated enough to be dealing with his ex and his bullshit right now.

So like any reasonable, mature adult would do, Doyoung slams the door in Taeyong’s face and turns around. 

“Yuta!” he hollers.

“What?” a voice shouts back from the bathroom.

“Smol, mean, and wasted is standing on our doorstep.”

“ _What?_ ” There’s a low squeak as the water shuts off, and a second later Yuta steps out, hair still wet and a little soapy, and a towel bunched messily around his waist. He doesn’t look pleased. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but what should I do?”

“Give me five minutes. I’ll just rinse off, get dressed, and beat his ass.”

“Oh, forget it. Ten already took care of that.” Doyoung marches up to Yuta and shoves him back into the bathroom. “Just tell me what I should do. He looks so fucking sad it’s pathetic. He broke my heart and I stole his toilet! And it’s midnight. You know I have the emotional intelligence of a boulder rolling downhill towards a village at this time. The fuck am I supposed to say?”

“Hell, I don’t know!” Yuta clicks his tongue and turns, reaching behind the bathroom door. He comes back out holding their swiffer in hand, a fiery determination shining in his eyes.

Doyoung blinks. “Uh, what are you—”

“Fuck getting dressed, imma beat his ass.”

“Okay, stop. How about I open the door first, ask what he wants, and you just stand behind me with that thing in case shit hits the fan?”

Yuta nods once. “Sounds good. So long as I can have a chance to personally beat his ass, I’m not complaining.”

It’s not a sound plan. He and Yuta both know this, but it’s the only plan they have given the situation, and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

So without another moment of hesitation, Doyoung sucks in a breath and jerks open the door.

He regrets it immediately.

Because when the door pulls open just barely enough to fit a person through, Taeyong lets out something eerily akin to a battle cry and lunges at Doyoung. 

Yuta screams a curse and swings his swiffer like a baseball bat. Instead of fending Taeyong off, however, it just smacks him in the back and propels him forward into Doyoung, which is not helping at all. Taeyong is all strong, slender limbs and vice-like grips, and he grabs at Doyoung’s shirt like it’s a lifeline, pulling him forward until they’re face-to-face.

For a terrifying moment Doyoung thinks that he’s actually going to get hit, but all Taeyong ends up doing in his drunken stupor is let his knees buckle, and lands in a clumsy heap in Doyoung’s arms.

“You did it!” he cries, hands grabbing at Doyoung’s shirt. From the corner of his eye, Doyoung can see Yuta lift the swiffer threateningly. “I know it’s you, you thief! Give me back my toilet!”

Doyoung scowls and does his best to push Taeyong away. “Fucking hell, Taeyong. You need Jesus, and my name’s not Jesus. Get off me.”

Yuta points his swiffer at Taeyong. “So can I beat his ass now?”

“No!” Doyoung snaps, continuing to manhandle Taeyong off his person. “Get my phone and call Jaehyun.”

“Why Jae?”

Doyoung feels his patience thin considerably the longer he has skin contact with Taeyong. It’s like the touch alone is draining him of all human courtesy. “Because Taeil has the fucking night shift you _dumbass_ , just do what I say!” he snaps.

Yuta pulls Doyoung’s phone off its charger on the table and rings up Jaehyun without another word.

“Okay, listen here you text-breakup piece of shit,” Doyoung hisses as he pulls Taeyong up enough so that they’re standing eye-to-eye. “I don’t know what gave you the right to just barge in here all willy-nilly, but you’re not welcome here anymore. Get out.”

Taeyong scowls. “I’m not leaving until you return what you stole from me!”

“Stole from you? Like what? Your time? Your heart? Bitch, what more can I steal besides that?” Doyoung snarls, pushing Taeyong back as far as he possibly can. Which, given the circumstances, is only a couple inches away. “I can’t return any of that, and I don’t owe you shit. Get the fuck out.”

“I’m not going until I have my toilet!” Taeyong protests.

“Jesus Christ, Taeyong! Even if I did have your toilet, you think you can just carry the whole shebang back on your own? You’re fucking nuts!”

“So you _do_ have it!” Taeyong steps forward again, and ends up almost crumpling to the floor. Had Doyoung been a lesser man, he would’ve happily let Taeyong break his nose, but his mother raised him right, so he ends up catching Taeyong by the arm.

“I fucking knew it!” Taeyong crows as he paws at Doyoung messily. “I knew you’re my toilet thief! Gimme my toilet back!”

That’s the stupidest string of sentences Doyoung has ever heard from Taeyong’s mouth. “I said IF, you dumb bitch!”

“Can I _please_ just beat the shit outta him now?” Yuta asks.

“Not yet. I need to—”

“Ahem.”

Both Doyoung and Yuta lift their heads towards the new voice. Jaehyun is standing there in the open doorway, looking slightly winded and wrapped up in a black coat and fluffy white scarf. 

“What…” he frowns. “...is going _on_ here?”

Well.

That was fast.

Doyoung heaves a sigh as a dull pain begins throbbing in his temples. He knows how dumb they all must look, with Taeyong half in his arms and half on the floor, him trying to keep Taeyong from faceplanting fully, and Yuta naked and about to throw down with a swiffer.

“Hi, Jae,” Doyoung greets. God, he’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, Doyoung.” 

Yuta grins. “Sup, dude?”

“Hey, Yuta. Your tattoo’s healing nicely, I see.”

“Thanks, man.”

Doyoung adjusts his hold on Taeyong. “So Jae, can you—”

“Hold on.” Jaehyun’s eyes flick to Doyoung’s lip and ear, and a small smile tugs his mouth up. “You look nice with the new piercings, Doyoung. Sorry I didn’t get to greet you the other night. It was busy as hell.”

The compliment is flattering, but completely uncalled for given the circumstances. “Yeah, that’s no problem. Look, can you just—” Taeyong slips a little, and Doyoung has to reach down and pull him up by the hem of his shirt. “—can you please hold him for a sec?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Totally.”

“Jae!” Taeyong whines when Jaehyun steps forward. He twists himself out of Doyoung’s grip and throws himself into Jaehyun’s arms. “Doie stole my toilet! I know it’s him! Make him give it back!”

There’s a short, terrifying moment when Jaehyun’s eyes widen slightly, and Doyoung can see the gears turning in his head. 

_‘Please don’t admit anything,’_ Doyoung begs with his eyes. _‘Jae, don’t do me dirty like this. You said you wouldn’t!’_

There’s a long stretch of silence, and it’s just them—Doyoung pleading with Jaehyun over Taeyong’s back, and Jaehyun staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

He’s not supposed to care.

He needs to mind his own business.

_Please._

Maybe the universe hears him, because in an act of great cosmic mercy, Jaehyun’s gaze turns as placid as ever as he shifts Taeyong upright.

“Yong, what the hell are you talking about?”

Taeyong jabs a finger at Doyoung, sniffling. “He stole my toilet! I know it’s him! He’s doing this to torture me!”

“I’m sure if Doyoung wanted to torture you, it’d be a lot more violent and there would be no evidence of foul play,” Jaehyun deadpans, throwing Taeyong’s arm over his shoulder. “Now c’mon, let’s get you home.”

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT MY TOILET!”

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun sighs. “I don’t know what you’re on, but for heaven’s sake, fuck your toilet. I’m taking you home now.”

“Jae, you can’t do this to me!"

“Yeah, I can. Watch me.” Jaehyun plants a hand firmly on Taeyong’s waist and all but drags him out of Doyoung’s apartment. 

Doyoung lets out a sigh of relief once he’s able to close the door. He watches Jaehyun wrestle Taeyong down the street from the window, and thanks every divine being that he actually managed to handle it in a semi-mature way.

He didn’t fight Taeyong, like how he initially wanted.

But he did find a way to get him home safely, even though his spitefulness is telling him otherwise.

And he sees Jaehyun again, who compliments him on his new accessories and keeps his secret safe.

Doyoung has no idea why he ever doubted Jaehyun with something he’s always done.


	6. Chapter 6

One would think that because it’s now Christmas, that Doyoung has now developed a sense of mercy and reconciled with Taeyong, talked over their broken relationship, and moved on with his life.

Nope.

Doyoung hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Taeyong since the night Jaehyun dragged him away, and honestly, he’s grateful for it. It makes his holidays that much more unproblematic. 

He doesn’t have to explain to his parents of their falling out, because they’ve always understood him too well. His mother picks up the phone, and knows instantly that there’s something weighing on his mind. She doesn’t push, however, and hands the phone to his father, who wishes him a safe and happy holiday before going off on a tangent about how he’d just discovered the best fruitcake recipe, and how Doyoung just has to try it.

“By the way,” his father says over the phone. “How’s that Nakamoto boy? Are you two still roommates?”

“Yuta?” Doyoung turns, glancing at said man, who’s currently humming while stirring something furiously in a mixing bowl. “Yeah, he’s still here. He’s fine. Oh, you wanna talk to him? Yeah, gimme a minute—Yuta!”

“What?”

“Dad wants to talk to you.” He hands his phone over to Yuta, who sandwiches it between his ear and shoulder.

“Uncle, how are you! Oh yeah, I’ve been good. Uh, I’m working on a cake right now. Dunno how that’ll turn out but it’s the thought that counts, right? It’s tiramisu. Yeah, I’m using the recipe you sent me from high school. No, I didn’t measure out the rum yet.” He pauses, then bursts out laughing. “No, uncle. No, I swear we’re not getting plastered on rum just ‘cause we can. You know Doie. Yeah, I’m taking good care of him, don’t worry. How’s auntie? Is she—oh, hey auntie!”

Yuta talks to Doyoung’s parents like they’re old friends, and Doyoung thinks that it’s only fitting. He and Yuta have spent more time in each other’s houses than anywhere else in the world, and it’s good to remember that at this point, Yuta’s practically family. He bakes Doyoung’s favorite holiday desserts, buys him a gift that he didn’t even know he needs, and promises Doyoung’s parents that he’ll come home to visit. Doyoung doesn’t even get a say in it. He knows that Yuta will pack both of their bags for them and have plane tickets booked cross-country at the drop of a hat.

Another good thing about this holiday season is that Doyoung doesn’t have to spend money that he doesn’t have on some frivolous shit that’s more or less completely useless. Yuta is a very low-maintenance human being, and he’s more than happy with the fuzzy socks Doyoung got him—so much that he’s wearing them at the moment as he waddles around their narrow kitchen.

Doyoung wishes that the rest of their friends were equally low-maintenance, but unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. He knows that they’ll love him unconditionally, gift or not, but still, he wishes that he can do more.

It was easy getting gifts to most of their friends, with the exception of a few due to their proximity with the literal bane of Doyoung’s existence. He knows it’s petty and unfair to them, but what’s done is done, and Doyoung can’t turn back time to have Christmas just magically occur again in the same year.

Though in light of recent events, there wasn’t much of a Christmas to begin with. It’s the first year in all his years in college that Doyoung doesn’t attend Johnny’s Christmas party, because he already knows who will be there. And naturally, Yuta boycotts the party too, because according to him, nobody deserves to be all alone for Christmas.

Doyoung tells him that he should go enjoy himself.

Yuta flips him off, and while making direct eye contact with him, calls Johnny and says, “Hey Johnny, not sorry to disappoint, but we can’t make your party this year. It’s nothing personal, man. We love you, but if I see Taeyong anytime soon, I will deep-fry his ass in gasoline and set him on fire. Hope you understand.”

“I understand,” Johnny replies almost immediately. He doesn’t ask questions, and doesn’t badger Doyoung or Yuta to come anyways. “Just take care of yourselves, alright? It’s gonna be a cold one this year. Stay warm and safe. Let’s grab lunch someday later, yeah?”

“Of course.” Doyoung hopes Johnny can’t hear how he’s about to cry. “You take care too, Johnny. Happy holidays.”

But it doesn’t end there, because Johnny just has to go and be his big loveable self and send them a throw blanket as a gift, and Doyoung has enough humanity to not take his kindness for granted.

Which is why there’s a bottle of rather expensive rum sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be soaked into the sponges of the tiramisu. For his kindness, Johnny deserves only the best dessert Doyoung can offer through Yuta’s labor. Not his own, because while Doyoung’s not completely hopeless in the kitchen, desserts aren’t exactly his specialty.

The gift itself is a bit overdue, but barely anything goes right 100% during the holiday season, so Doyoung’s not too worried.

And so another Christmas passes, with Doyoung lounging against Yuta as they drink spiced hot chocolate and watch a sadistic little demon torment two immortal idiots on the screen of Yuta’s laptop.

There’s no Christmas lights. No tree. No feast.

They order in McDonald’s and a pizza, and eat while huddled together under their new blanket and almost tipping each other off their chairs. Yuta winces hard when Kevin shoots one of the goons in the crotch with a nail gun, tugging away a fair share of the blanket.

“Hog,” Doyoung grumbles through his mouthful of pizza, tugging the blanket back. For someone so young, Kevin has some great ideas. If they can work on two idiots attempting to rob his house, then surely they’d also work on assholes who break up with people for some rather selfish reasons.

“Hey, Yuta.”

“What?”

“How much do you reckon a nail gun will cost?”

Yuta chews thoughtfully on his cold fries. “You planning on hiring a lawyer too while you’re at it?”

Doyoung closes his eyes with a sigh. There goes that plan. “No, not particularly.”

“Then there’s your answer.” Yuta reaches over to take another handful of fries and crams them into his mouth. “Now shut up. I wanna see the kid light the guy’s head on fire.”

* * *

By New Year’s, Yuta manages to make enough holiday desserts for them, Johnny, Taeil (and Taeil only! They made that very clear on the post-it note pasted over the foil), and pretty much everyone in their friend group. Doyoung would like to claim some credit behind helping create the sugary goodies, but all he really has to place his pride on is the fact that he kept Yuta from burning himself and the apartment down for two days.

It’s not much, but he’ll take what he can get.

He’s actually in a good mood today, and the weather outside is dry and cold enough to freeze his dick to his thigh, but the sun is shining bright and the skies are blue and cloudless. Doyoung decides that it’s a perfectly good time to take the last of the holiday goodies that needs delivering and bundles up, pocketing a sandwich for Yuta when he drops by the café later on. Holiday season or not, Mondays are always a bitch to work with, and especially taxing on baristas and other food industry workers. Yuta’s not going to starve today if Doyoung’s got anything to do with it.

And just like every other time he heads out, Doyoung bumps into Jaehyun halfway between the apartment and his destination. It’s happened enough for him to not be surprised, but also just enough for him to remain fairly suspicious.

“Jaehyun,” he greets when they’re within talking proximity. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jaehyun greets back with a dimpled smile. He’s dressed a little different from his usual monochromatic scheme today. His long gray overcoat almost grazes the top of his combat boots, and a pastel pink infinity scarf hangs around his neck. Jaehyun’s face is fully visible for once, and both his cheeks and nose are adorably red from the cold. Doyoung kind of wants to reach forward and squish his face.

“Huh. No wonder you always have your head mummified with those things.”

“Sorry?”

Doyoung points at Jaehyun’s exposed face, and since the universe has already presented him with the opportunity, he leans forward just a bit and boops Jaehyun’s red nose. “You trying to give Rudolph a run for his money or something?”

Jaehyun pats his rosy cheeks and grins. “Would you say I’m getting pretty close?”

“More or less, yeah.”

The smile Jaehyun flashes in return almost reflects the daylight straight into his eyes, and Doyoung has to momentarily look away to spare his eyesight. “Well, thanks. Where you headed, by the way?” Something in his gaze shifts, turning from cheery to borderline sly in a single blink. “Should I erase this meeting from public knowledge for both of our sakes?”

Doyoung snorts and shakes his head. “No. Actually, I was going to see you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“What for?”

“To give you this.” Doyoung hands Jaehyun the bag in his hands. “Yuta and I slaved away to make this for you, because we’re both clueless on what you’d like. I thought about getting you a scarf, but I don’t want to fuel your weird obsession.”

Jaehyun peeks into the bag and his eyes crinkle with delight. “Well, I’m not a man to argue over sugar cookies, so thank you. Also, it’s not an obsession. My circulation is shit. The scarves keep me warm.”

“You sure you’re not just doing it so you don’t scare kids away from that creature crawling up your neck?”

Jaehyun tilts his head down, looking towards his tattoo and forming two extra chins. Doyoung immediately commits the scene to memory. “Huh, I never thought about that, actually. I haven’t seen much of it lately, either. It’s too cold.”

“Fair answer.”

“Yeah. I'm not keeping you from anything, am I? Are you busy?”

"No, you're fine." Doyoung points down the block. “I was also planning on heading to the café, so I can feed Yuta, and maybe make his life a bit harder. Wanna come with?”

Jaehyun agrees easily, and Doyoung maybe just preens a little on the inside for having a buddy to torment his best friend with. And besides, Jaehyun is good company. He’s a bit odd, but he’s nice to hang out with. Today really is going to be a good day.

“Lemme ask you something, Jaehyun,” Doyoung says as they begin their walk towards the cafe. “Why the demon? Why not like, I dunno, a spiderweb? Or a rose? Or some sort of gothic building?”

Jaehyun purses his lips in thought. His steps fall into sync with Doyoung’s, heavy and loud against the concrete. “You want the real answer, or the answer I just give to people who ask?”

“Real answer.”

“Okay. It was out of spite.”

Doyoung falters in his step, throwing off their perfect synchronization. He scrambles to make up for his pace, clumsily tripping over both his feet and his words. “What—what do you mean by that, exactly?”

Jaehyun shrugs, making the loop of his scarf bounce. “I got it to spite my art professor back in first year.”

“Why? What did they do to you?”

“I designed the demon for my final project using black watercolor on a white canvas, but he rejected it because it was hard to make out the details, apparently,” Jaehyun explains. “I didn’t take the criticism well. It took me over three weeks to perfect it and he didn’t like it just because it was too abstract for his taste. So I decided to turn in something a little less abstract.”

“You went under the needles just to show up your professor?” Doyoung asks.

“Pretty much.”

“How long did that tattoo take?”

“Six, maybe seven hours.”

“Goddamn, you’re crazier than I am.”

Jaehyun chuckles with a shake of his head. “No, I’m not. You’re awful. I just don’t like it when people undermine something I work hard on.”

“Wow, thank you for reinforcing the fact that I’m an asshole,” Doyoung deadpans. He steps up to the cafe’s doors and opens one before Jaehyun can beat him to it. “Get in.”

“Thanks.” Jaehyun grins as he steps in, and Doyoung follows right behind him. The café is well-heated inside, and the warmth seeps into Doyoung almost immediately. As he expects, it’s rather busy with other patrons, and he can make out Yuta by the coffee machines, mixing drinks with surprising dexterity and focus.

They step into line, and give their orders to the cashier. Jaehyun orders a small hot chocolate and a muffin, and Doyoung orders a large mocha with an extra shot of espresso, two extra pumps of chocolate, and to be made with almond milk. He also orders a slice of lemon cake, warmed.

Doyoung doesn’t see Yuta’s expression as he turns to take his seat opposite Jaehyun, but he does feel the hatred just rolling off of him. If he had the artistic ability to illustrate it, Yuta would be standing stock-still with black tendrils of smoke forming a cocoon around him. Doyoung knows his best friend is pissed beyond belief, but it’s okay, because Doyoung’s here to feed him, so there’s only so much Yuta can complain about.

Jaehyun’s order gets called quickly, and it’s another five minutes before Doyoung’s order gets called. He makes his way to the counter, and Yuta slides him the drink and cake, along with an ugly scowl.

“Asshole,” he hisses under his breath. “You did that on purpose.”

“Of course I did,” Doyoung retorts, before pulling the sandwich from his pocket and sliding it across the counter. “Here’s your lunch. You’re welcome.”

“You’re still a bitch,” Yuta grouches as he pockets the sandwich. “And since when did you and Jae become coffee buddies?”

“Since I bumped into him again on my way here.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuta hums, narrowing his eyes at the table where Jaehyun sits, a sketchbook now spread out before him and pencil in hand. “So it’s a coffee date, then?”

“It’s not a date, it’s just an early afternoon snack. Now get back to work before you get fired.” Doyoung takes his drink and cake, and leaves with a backwards wave. When he gets back to their table, Jaehyun is eyeing his muffin like it holds the secrets of space and time, hand moving his pencil idly along the sketchbook. He doesn’t even appear to be drawing that muffin. All the lines are forming into a design that looks like some sort of an abstract face.

Sometimes Doyoung genuinely wonders what exactly goes on inside Jaehyun’s head.

“Jae?”

Jaehyun doesn’t look up from his drawing. “Hm?”

“Is that for work?”

“This? Oh, it’s not. This is just for me.” He shades in an eye and reaches out to take his muffin in his other hand. “I’m just doodling. It keeps my mind off other things.”

Doyoung watches Jaehyun peel off the top of the muffin, then pick out the blueberries, eating them one by one as he continues to draw. It’s disturbing, but somehow also fascinating to see, like a new breed of anglerfish that’s found at unprecedented depths of the ocean.

“Jae, can I bother you with some more questions?” Doyoung asks, taking a sip of his coffee. He can taste Yuta’s wrath in the frothy concoction, heated to a near-scalding point that has his tongue tingling in pain. 

“Shoot.”

“Why tattooing? Like, all the props to you, but why did you choose tattooing as a career?”

Jaehyun pauses and looks up. “Why do you want to be a horror novelist?”

Doyoung doesn’t expect to have his question deflected back at him, so there’s no time to filter his answer as he blurts out, “Because I’m morbid as hell and I like writing.”

A small smile curves over Jaehyun’s lips as he turns his gaze back down at his sketch. “Well, it’s kinda similar to that for me. I’m passionate about art and I like tattooing.”

“How many tattoos you got? I lost track after second year.”

Jaehyun scratches the back of his neck, looking uncertain. “Uh...I lost track too. I’m guessing 20? Give or take. I could be wrong.”

“Are any particularly meaningful for you?”

“No, not really.” Jaehyun shrugs, turning to pick at his muffin some more. “I just thought they looked pretty. Tattoos don't always have to have some deep symbolic meaning to make it worthwhile.”

“No regrets?”

“Do you regret your lip ring?”

Doyoung touches his mouth, where the round ball of the stud rests snug under the curve of his lower lip. It’s still a touch tender, but much better than a week ago. “No,” he answers with certainty. “I don’t regret it. I like it.”

“Then the same goes for me.” Jaehyun seems to have finished his drawing, setting down his pencil and arching his back in a stretch. “Sometimes we just gotta do things without regrets, you know? Whatever makes us happy. We’ll figure out the consequences when they come.”

“That’s bad advice, Jae,” Doyoung reprimands lightly, tearing his pastry bag open to get to his cake. “Sometimes we do dumb shit in the heat of the moment and the consequences are a bit more complicated than we initially planned to deal with.” He thinks back to the toilet that’s still sitting in his closet, abandoned but not forgotten. One day he’ll have to dispose of that thing. Or give it back. He’ll let his mood determine that when the day comes.

Jaehyun gives him a funny look, and something about the way he’s looking at Doyoung feels like he’s stripping him down. It’s not a particularly judgmental gaze, and it doesn’t have any heat, but still, it’s a pretty intense look. Especially when it’s Jaehyun, whose resting face could only be described as “dazed” on a good day.

For a moment, Jaehyun’s lips part, like he’s about to say something, but then he closes it again and reaches for his cup. Doyoung does the same, and they drink in unison.

“Yuta is staring.” Jaehyun sets down his cup and looks Doyoung dead in the eyes. “Why is he staring at us?”

Doyoung turns, and sure enough, Yuta’s eyeing them suspiciously while steaming some milk. He notices Doyoung, and arches a brow in question. Doyoung shakes his head, waving his hand under his neck for Yuta to cut it out.

Yuta doesn’t cut it out. In fact, he only stares harder. Doyoung feels the secondhand embarrassment creep up his neck as Jaehyun lets out a quiet snicker.

“He’s very protective of you,” Jaehyun notes casually, but the statement still snaps Doyoung’s attention to him. “Yuta would make a very good boyfriend.”

“What? No. No, he wouldn’t,” Doyoung retorts. “He hogs the shower and the blankets. He always procrastinates on assignments, and please, if you had to wake up almost every day to his morning breath, you’d jump ship asap, trust me.”

Jaehyun raises his hands placatingly. “Okay, point taken. Don’t get me wrong, I just want you to be taken care of.”

Doyoung certainly isn’t expecting that response, so the best he can come up with is, “Thanks, I guess. But really, I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” Jaehyun takes another sip of his drink. He doesn’t say anything else after that, but the silence that falls over them is comfortable, and stretches on even long after they've left the café.

* * *

Yuta corners him the moment he comes home.

“What was that?”

Doyoung turns from where he’s been cracking eggs into a bowl. “What was what?”

“You and Jae. What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing, why?”

Yuta stares at Doyoung like he’s an idiot. “Why? _Why?_ Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

“Was there something weird about the way he was looking at me?” Doyoung doesn’t think there was anything weird in the way Jaehyun looks at him, other than that one funny glance.

“Doie, he was drawing you.”

Doyoung nods. “He was drawing a face, yes.”

“No, no, no.” Yuta waves his hands frantically. “I mean, he was drawing _your_ face! You! That was you on his sketchbook!”

“What? No, it wasn’t.” Doyoung doesn’t remember much of that sketch, aside from the outline and some rough shading. It really didn’t look like much at the time. In fact, it barely looked like a face at all. Though, he had been more engaged with his and Jaehyun’s conversation to notice the more minute details. “It was super abstract. It could’ve been anyone.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I saw you on that paper,” Yuta insists. “Long face, delicate features, overall bunny look—that’s you in a nutshell.”

“First off, rude. Second, why were you staring at Jae’s drawing?”

“I work right there. Anyone could’ve seen it.”

“Liar.”

“And I was making sure your date went alright.”

Irritated, Doyoung crushes an egg shell in his hand, and winces when he feels a sharp edge cut at his skin. “For the last time, it’s not a date. We were just getting coffee.”

"Right, and Jae ends up drawing you while he’s at it.” Yuta rolls his eyes. “I may not be an expert in love, but I’m starting to get pretty sus about him.”

A surge of protectiveness wells in Doyoung, because even though what Yuta says isn’t slander, Jaehyun’s not even here to defend himself. That's not fair to him. “He just likes drawing, Yuta. And maybe it’s just more convenient to draw me because I’m an easy subject.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words, Doie,” Yuta sighs, defeated. “And trust me, I know Jae. I’ve gotten work done by him. I know his art style. Jae rarely draws people. He’s not a portrait artist.”

Doyoung shakes his head, thinking back to that sketch and Jaehyun. “It’s a coincidence.” It has to be.

Yuta heaves another sigh and begins undressing without further argument. Once he pulls off his long-sleeved shirt, several tattoos come into view, and Doyoung zeroes in on the pieces he knows that Jaehyun designed.

A feather.

A koi fish.

A scorpion.

All in fine, thin black lines. Beautifully delicate and wispy, with a certain flair that acts as a signature to the pieces. It’s easy to tell that they all come from the same artist. 

Who, apparently, doesn’t draw portraits.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s already been scientifically proven that when Doyoung doesn’t know how to handle his feelings, he turns into a bit of a dumbass.

“What are you—oof.” Yuta grunts as he trips over Doyoung’s ankle and falls face-first onto the carpet. “What in the name of Mark’s ass are you _doing_?”

Doyoung turns from where he’s been digging around in their closet. “I’m trying to find the hot glue gun and—” he pauses, “—wait, who the hell is Mark?”

“Cute new artist at Jae’s shop,” Yuta replies, picking himself up and rubbing at his face. “He’s got the prettiest geometric designs and the thiccest ass, you won’t believe it.”

“Knowing you, I’d believe it,” Doyoung says flatly, before turning back to rummaging through the boxes in the back of their closet. “Where’d you put the fucking glue gun?”

Yuta sighs, and it’s a tired, fond sound. “It’s in the toolbox. Be careful with that.”

Doyoung finds what he’s been looking for, and tucks the glue gun into his pocket. The toilet is still crammed in one corner of the space, and he unwraps part of the tank delicately. Behind him, Yuta shuffles to his side and bends down, low enough that Doyoung can feel his breath at the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Something bad.”

“Bad or not, a hot glue gun and—okay, you just broke that shit right off.” Yuta leans back as Doyoung raises the loose tank lever in his hand. “Whatever it is that you’re about to do, it can’t be worse than stealing a toilet, can it?”

“Oh, it can.” Doyoung waves the lever in front of Yuta’s face. “We’re returning this motherfucker today.”

“Just the lever?” Yuta blinks.

“Just the lever.”

“Doie, I love you but,” Yuta frowns, “are you okay?”

Doyoung nods. “Oh, I’m great! I had a brownie.”

“A brownie,” Yuta echoes, turning his head to eye the unwrapped plate of weed brownies on their kitchen counter.

“Or two.”

“Or two?”

“Two and a half,” Doyoung admits sheepishly. “I saved some for you.”

“Look, that’s sweet and all, but are you sure you should be doing this high?”

Doyoung shrugs loosely. It’s a bad idea, and they both know it, but he’s feeling particularly petty today and Yuta will get roped along, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m fine. You know the worst that’ll happen is I start crying halfway through.”

Yuta sighs, and makes his way to the kitchen, before coming back with his own brownie in hand. “Fuck it, might as well, right?” He takes a big bite out of the brownie. “Is Taeyong out right now?”

“He should be, if I remember correctly. Mind calling Taeil for me to confirm?” After a moment of thought, Doyoung adds, “And ask him if their passcode changed at all, and if it did, what is it now?”

Yuta leaves his side briefly, and Doyoung basks in the moment of relative peace before Yuta returns, phone in hand and grinning. “Taeil says he’ll be out from now until late this evening. He can keep Taeyong away longer if we need it. Also, their passcode did change. But I got it down.”

“Perfect.” Doyoung holds up the lever, a near-manic grin splitting his lips wide open. “Go put on your running shoes. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Here’s the thing. 

Yuta and Doyoung are about the same height. They’re about the same weight. So logically speaking, it shouldn’t be too big of a deal for one of them to heave the other up high enough to reach the ceiling of Taeyong’s apartment.

But as Doyoung has come to learn through many trials, logic apparently isn’t his strong suit.

“Would you please hurry the fuck up?” he grits, shuffling under Yuta’s weight and trying his damnest not to slip on the tile floor and crack both of their heads open.

“Hold on, I almost got it,” Yuta says, moving the hot glue gun around the lever on the ceiling. “I have to keep holding onto this until the glue sets.”

“It’s January, how fucking long does it take for hot glue to dry?”

Yuta reaches down with his free hand and gives Doyoung’s head a rough pat. “Patience, Doie. It’s getting there.”

Doyoung huffs, adjusting his hold on Yuta’s thighs. Holding his own weight on his shoulders is harder than he imagined. With all the crates and boxes he has to lift at work, Doyoung had thought that he would at least be able to handle Yuta, who—in all honesty—is rather slight in build. It shouldn’t be hard.

But because this entire situation is born of a VERY BAD DECISION, it is.

Even worse now, since the weed brownies are kicking in full-force and everything’s starting to feel properly lucid.

Through the haze, though, his back is aching and Doyoung swears the circulation to his neck is getting cut off. He would’ve offered to sit on Yuta’s shoulders instead, but remembered at the last minute that he’s the one with broader shoulders and more experience lifting heavy objects.

And now, Yuta officially counts as a heavy object. One that he would happily never carry again.

“Is it done?” Doyoung wheezes. Not even five minutes in, and his plan is already starting to bite him in the ass. Then again, pretty much every plan he has when he gets emotional ends up biting him in the ass. He really should re-evaluate his coping mechanisms, because this is getting out of hand. “Yuta, is it done? I can’t fucking breathe.”

“I think so.” Yuta lets go of the lever and nods in satisfaction when it remains firmly stuck to the bathroom ceiling, right above the empty space where the toilet used to be. “Okay, there. You can let me down now.”

Doyoung sighs in relief and bends down as carefully as his wobbly legs will allow, setting Yuta back down on the floor. “Jesus Christ, you’re heavier than I thought.”

Yuta doesn’t look impressed. “I weigh literally the same as you.”

“Maybe we need to lose weight,” Doyoung rasps between breaths.

“Or maybe you stop having these shit ideas that require one of us to sit on the other’s shoulders,” Yuta counters, wiping off bits of glue onto his pants as Doyoung unplugs the glue gun from the wall. “Now c’mon, let’s go before we’re caught.”

“We won’t.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

Doyoung shrugs, thinking back to that night encounter with Jaehyun. To be seen leaving his ex’s apartment with a hot glue gun in hand can’t even come close to half the mortification he felt back then.

“Gut intuition.”

Yuta doesn’t look convinced, but Doyoung also knows that Yuta wouldn’t care if they’re caught. It isn’t his coping mechanism, anyways. It’s not his idea. He has no reason to feel embarrassed.

This is Doyoung’s bad idea. It’s his unhealthy coping mechanism. He has every reason to feel embarrassed.

Which he won’t be, because they’re not getting caught.

They step out of the apartment, and Doyoung barely gets two steps out before he collides with someone, sending them both stumbling back a few steps.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I—” Doyoung's eyes finally catch up to his mouth, and all the words die in his throat as he takes in a familiar black coat and giant scarf.

Dear god, he really should've listened to Yuta.

Doyoung sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, his weed-muddled logic being that if he can’t see it, it’s not real. Jaehyun is not standing in front of him, looking all nice and cozy and confused. He’s not outside Taeyong’s door, after hot-gluing his toilet lever to the bathroom ceiling. None of this happened. It’s not real.

“Oh, hey,” Yuta chirps, sounding entirely too calm for someone who just got caught in breaking and entering. “It’s Jae.”

And just like that, the fragile illusion shatters. Doyoung wants to cry. The universe has got to be _fucking_ with him right now.

“Right,” he mutters, exhaling sharply and making a point to look anywhere but at Jaehyun, who is still very much standing before him. “Hi, Jae.”

“Why,” Jaehyun drones, crossing his arms over his chest. “Isn’t this starting to become a little uncanny?”

“Uh…” Doyoung glances at Yuta, and Yuta stares right back.

 _‘It’s just Jae,’_ his eyes say. _‘Relax.’_

And no, Doyoung can’t relax, because he’d been caught in the act. 

Again. 

By Jaehyun.

AGAIN.

And he knows that Jaehyun will most likely keep quiet about this whole encounter, because he can’t be assed to care, but Doyoung’s still so embarrassed he wants to die. He’s sure the feeling would’ve been much worse had it been anyone else catching him in the act of breaking into his ex’s apartment, but something about it being Jaehyun, who already knows too much, has his nerves fizzling uncontrollably.

Once is excusable enough. Doyoung was angry and hurt. He wasn’t thinking straight.

But twice—

He’s had ample time to recover from the brunt of heartbreak and find better solutions to deal with his problems. Doyoung should be smarter than this, he and Jaehyun both know it.

How disappointing. 

“Uh,” Jaehyun’s voice cuts in. “Sorry to interrupt whatever mental ping-ponging you’ve got going on here, but you’re kinda blocking the way, and I really need to get to work.”

Oh. Right. They’re still standing in the middle of the hallway, where people walk. And they’re not doing an awful lot of walking.

“Sorry.” Doyoung moves aside so Jaehyun can pass. He can’t bear to lift his head to meet Jaehyun’s eyes as they glance quickly at him. “You never saw us, Jae.”

Jaehyun ignores Doyoung completely and continues to walk until he disappears around the corner. The feeling of watching him leave is almost cathartic, calming in a way that drains all of Doyoung’s energy and makes his head spin. Everything suddenly feels lighter, but off-kilter, like the entire world tilted on its axis and he’s the only one who noticed.

Yuta lets out a low whistle. “Shit, that was close. Lucky it was Jae and not someone else. We could’ve been fucked.”

“Correction,” Doyoung says weakly. His knees feel like they’re about to give up any moment now, and he grabs a handful of Yuta’s jacket for support. “ _You_ are lucky. _I_ am fucked. I am very fucked.”

Yuta cocks a brow in confusion. “What?”

Doyoung shakes his head, and the world spins a little faster. “Forget it. Just take me home. I’m not high enough to deal with this.”

* * *

All things considered, dumbassery and irresponsibility aside, Doyoung is just a masochist. 

He has to be, if he keeps letting his life fall apart at the seams and is making no move to pick up the pieces. It’s only been a day, but his moods have swung so violently it could knock over a truck, and Doyoung finds himself back in his bad place, alone and questioning every life decision he’s ever made.

It's always like this. There's always a period of mania, when he feels invincible and there's nothing in the universe to stop him from making bad decisions. He gets impulsive. He gets stupid. He does things that once the high wears off, he'll immediately start to regret and cry about. That's what the depression is for. It brings him back to earth, reminds Doyoung that he's human in the most brutal way possible, and he's left to deal with the aftermath of his questionable behaviors. 

Again.

Again and again and again.

He never learns.

But this isn't like elementary school, where a brash impulse to climb a tree will only result in a scraped knee and a few tears. It's also not like high school, where a kiss between best friends can be considered an experiment and life will just revert back to normal in a few days.

Doyoung is now an adult, and with adult-scaled dumbassery comes adult-scaled consequences.

And it really sucks, how hard life hits without the buffer of a high or a loving caress. He’s back to the basics—overwhelmed by emotions and memories that shouldn’t even matter anymore, and having no idea what to do with any of it. The trigger stares him straight in the face through the closet door, and now, it feels like something more of a parasite than a trophy. 

If Doyoung was a lesser man, he would take that hunk of porcelain and throw it out the window, watching in glee as it flies down a whole story and shatters on the asphalt below. It’s what he should’ve done in the first place, anyways. 

But no, he can’t do that. Not when Yuta’s there to side-eye Doyoung hard enough to burn holes into his head, and give him some common sense that’s only reserved for when Doyoung’s own reservoir runs out. 

They’ll have to get rid of that thing entirely, one day. Doyoung thinks that once all the bits and pieces are stuck right back where they belong, his life can finally be what it was again. 

Maybe.

Some things will never change, no matter what’s forgiven and what’s not.

* * *

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun greets the gray, cloudy morning after Doyoung’s relapse. “How are you?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Doyoung says, because it’s only nine in the morning and he hasn’t had any coffee yet. Yuta’s alarm had woken him up at the asscrack of dawn, and left him in a semi-conscious state until the knocks on his door woke him up for good. His hair is a mess, and he’s still wearing the same t-shirt and sweats that he slept in two nights ago. Even his glasses are misshapen from where they’re sliding off of his nose, lenses full of fingerprints and the edge of one slightly cracked.

It’s a stark contrast from Jaehyun, who’s looking like a model in his fitted jeans and gray coat, with an atrocious green scarf bundled up under his chin. 

Jaehyun grins, and the action coupled with the pressure of his scarf against his face makes his cheeks bunch up all chubby-like. Doyoung wills himself to not think it’s cute, and it’s actually not that hard, once he takes his glasses off. That way, all he sees is some vaguely humanoid blur with that big fat slime-green coil around their upper torso. 

No fluffy cheeks or extra-pointy teeth. No Jaehyun. Just blur.

"Did Yuta send you?"

“No."

Doyoung narrows his eyes, and Jaehyun only gets blurrier. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I brought you this,” Jaehyun-blur says, dangling what looks like a bag in front of Doyoung’s face. “Here. It’s to pay you back for the cookies last time.”

Doyoung sighs, eyes following the bag as it swings on Jaehyun’s fingertips. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Words have power, and Doyoung knows he’s a weak man when those three from Jaehyun forces a nugget of warmth into his chest. “What is it?”

“I didn’t know what you liked, but Yuta mentioned you liked sweet bean soup that one time last year. Dunno how well it’ll help your mood, but it’s better than eating weed brownies for breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Doyoung relents, sliding his glasses back on because he’s too blind to see where the handles of the bags are. “How’d you know?”

Jaehyun points at the plate of brownies on the kitchen counter. There’s only one piece left, and it’s gone the perfect amount of dry and crumbly from all the exposure to the air. “Jungwoo, huh?”

“You know him.” Doyoung turns and beckons Jaehyun inside with a wave of his hand. “C’mon in. Close the door behind you. Would you like coffee?”

It’s probably not the best idea to have company over when he’s at one of his lows, but Doyoung doesn’t think Jaehyun will care that much. Besides, being alone isn’t going to erase a whole month’s worth of bad decisions, and they both know it. 

“Yes, please.” Jaehyun does as he’s told, shutting the door behind him as he toes off his shoes. “Oh, right. I also came to tell you something.”

Doyoung pauses in his rummaging around the cupboards. He feels like he should be nervous, but in his current state, and all the shit he’s been through the last couple of weeks, Doyoung has finally reached an almost Jaehyun-level of zen. 

“What?”

“Taeyong’s freaking out.” Jaehyun takes a seat at the table and unwraps the scarf around his neck. It falls around his shoulders, revealing a black turtleneck underneath. Doyoung doesn’t think he’s seen the shape of Jaehyun’s neck in literal months. He almost forgot how nicely shaped it is. “He’s been complaining nonstop about something with his bathroom. Taeil had to crash at my place last night, ‘cause he couldn’t stand the noise anymore.”

Doyoung makes their coffee and brings the mugs over by the table. It’s just cheap instant coffee, but it gets the job done. “Jae, you don’t have to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“You’re sitting in the toilet thief’s home, and looking him in the eye.” Doyoung takes a sip of his coffee, wincing when it burns his lip a little. "I appreciate the gesture, but there’s no point keeping my own secret from me.”

Jaehyun takes his own mug but doesn’t move to drink anything. “I know.”

“So why’re you doing it?”

The smile that flits over Jaehyun’s face is warm and careful. Tentative and wry. It’s a smile that promises secrets and hides threats behind pretty words. It’s a sheathed antique dagger with blood stains still on the blade.

It’s a smile that could ruin Doyoung’s life.

“No reason. I just thought it’d be nice for you to know how much Taeyong’s losing his shit,” Jaehyun finally says, taking a small sip of his coffee. His eyes never leave Doyoung’s over the rim of the mug. “Congratulations. You broke him.”

Doyoung smiles bitterly. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never hated anyone enough to try.”

“That’s the thing about you.” Doyoung sets his mug down and leans back in his chair. Jaehyun watches him curiously, both hands wrapped around his steaming mug. “You just don’t fucking hate anybody. You’re too fucking nice.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It could be.”

“How?”

“People might take advantage of you,” Doyoung says, and feels his chest tighten just a bit with every word. “You can’t just be nice to everybody, or everybody’s gonna walk all over that soft heart of yours until it breaks, and that would suck.”

“I’m not nice to everybody,” Jaehyun replies in that flat, empty tone that gives away absolutely nothing. “I’m only nice to people who matter to me.”

“Well, that sounds both lovely and incredibly selfish.”

“I’m only human.” Jaehyun smiles again, but it’s softer this time. “I can’t love everyone in the world. I’d kill myself trying.”

Doyoung eyes Jaehyun cautiously, from his slim fingers up to his tousled auburn hair. The question weighs on his tongue, and he spits it out before his cowardice can make him swallow it down. 

“Then who do you love, Jung Jaehyun?”

He doesn’t expect the smile to drop, but it does, and for a moment, Jaehyun looks dead serious. 

“Like I said, people who matter to me.” 

“And?” Doyoung presses, because he’s not as considerate as Johnny or as nonchalant as Jaehyun. “Who would they be?”

“You should know. The world’s only so big.” Jaehyun drains his coffee in a few hearty gulps, and stands up, bundling his scarf around his neck again. “That’s all. I’ve gotta go to work now. Don’t get too hung up on the little things, alright? Nobody will remember or care by the end of the year, anyways.”

 _'Yeah,’_ Doyoung thinks to himself as he watches Jaehyun leave without even a wave goodbye. _‘Nobody will care. At least, nobody that matters will.’_


	8. Chapter 8

Jaehyun showing up and being kind to Doyoung does him no favors. With his sweet bean soup, his aloof demeanor, and his cryptic words, comes a fresh wave of emotions for Doyoung—which, like every other wave of emotion—he copes with in very unhealthy ways.

For the couple of days following the visit, Doyoung sleeps more and eats less. He works longer hours and once classes pick up again, buries himself in his schoolwork. He gets high more often, and spiked brownies become a regular part of his diet. He drinks. Sometimes he decides to be brave and get cross-faded.

That certainly isn’t fun.

Then, when the cauldron of his emotions finally boils over, Doyoung rips apart the bubble wrap covering the toilet in his closet and begins plotting the return of those cursed pieces.

He doesn’t tell Yuta of any of his plans, but he’s sure Yuta knows anyways, because he always eyes Doyoung with worry, and doesn’t say a word whenever he opens the closet.

It had seemed like a good idea, giving back the toilet in pieces. It certainly isn’t hard. Doyoung manages to get more than half of the toilet stuck in obscure places of Taeyong’s apartment by himself. The feeling that follows a successful reverse-heist is always elation, but like a helium balloon with a hole, it comes crashing down all too quickly.

So Doyoung tries to find other ways to fill in the void. He doesn’t get too far, though. He can’t. Not when all the sharp instruments around the house go missing again along with the liquor and the weed brownies. Even the cough syrup and cleaning supplies. 

All of it, gone.

Left with nothing else, Doyoung falls to his last resort.

Stupidity.

But like all his other unhealthy coping mechanisms, it all comes to a screeching halt one afternoon, when Doyoung opens the door to Yuta pacing in their apartment, nails bitten down to their beds and cuticles bloody from all the torn skin.

“You know it’s not good to bite your nails,” Doyoung chides as he steps into their apartment. His legs feel too heavy for his body, like gravity is working extra hard just on him. It’s been a feeling that’s lingered for a couple days now, and the familiarity feels almost nostalgic.

The look Yuta gives him falls somewhere along the spectrum of parental heartbreak and friend disappointment.

“Baby, you’re breaking.”

Doyoung wipes the grime and stickiness off his fingers and avoids Yuta’s eyes. “I’m fine. Taeyong’s the one breaking, and that’s good on him.”

“Baby.” Yuta raises his arms, gesturing at Doyoung up and down. His eyebrows are pinched in concern, and Doyoung hates that look on him. He hates how raw and vulnerable it makes him feel, like his head is suddenly transparent and Yuta can see every bad idea swirling inside his brain.

If he could, though, Doyoung wonders just how horrified Yuta would be.

Enough to restrain him with a straitjacket and send on a one-way trip to a psychiatric ward, most likely.

“Look, Yuta, I’m fine.”

“Where have you been for the past hour?” Yuta demands as Doyoung unzips his boots and sets them by the door. “You didn’t tell me you were gonna leave. And you shouldn’t be going out when you’re not feeling well. You could’ve injured yourself!”

Doyoung finally meets Yuta’s eyes properly, and he looks sad. Of all the things Yuta should and could be feeling towards him right now, it’s sadness. Doyoung wishes deeply that it could be anything else—anger, annoyance, frustration—just not sadness. It hurts him to see Yuta sad, and even more when he knows that he’s the one causing his best friend to suffer. All these years, and Yuta has been nothing but good to him, and here Doyoung is, always dragging him into his messes and forsaking his feelings.

“Hey.” A warm palm presses against Doyoung’s cheek, and Yuta’s face swims into view, still tight with worry. “Doie. Baby. Whatever ugly voice is screaming inside that pretty head of yours, it’s wrong. Stop listening to it. It’s not real.”

“It is,” Doyoung admits miserably, pressing his own dirty, sticky fingers against Yuta’s. “I’m feeling things. I’m scared and confused and I just did something horrible.”

“I noticed the toilet tank lid was missing,” Yuta says, thumbs tracing delicate lines down the slope of Doyoung’s cheekbones. “You gave it back, huh?”

Doyoung nods, feeling nothing but shame. “He changed the passcode again. I forgot to ask Taeil. So I had to duct-tape it to his door.”

“First the lever on the ceiling, then the seat in his fish tank, the actual tank in his washing machine, and now the lid on his door?” Yuta shakes his head, like he can’t believe it, but he can. “Doie, you’re becoming unhinged.”

“Thank you.”

“No, listen to me. You’re _shattering_.” Yuta’s voice breaks, and takes a piece of Doyoung’s battered heart with it. “I can deal with a certain amount of stupid and regrettable from you, but this has to stop. It’s not fun for you or me anymore. It’s not fun for anyone. This toilet—this grudge—is going to kill you! It’s like I’m just sat here watching you die from the inside out with every passing day since we hot-glued that fucking lever to Taeyong’s ceiling.”

"Did you know that all the photos are gone now?" Doyoung drones, voice flat. "From the walls. The gifts I gave him too. They're gone. I'm gone. I'm nothing to him."

"Doie, it means he's moved on. Besides, you were too good for him to begin with. You really should move on, too."

“Healing is a slow, turbulent process for me, Yuta.”

“Healing is always a slow, turbulent process for everybody,” Yuta says softly. “But not like this, Doie. It shouldn’t have you ripping out your own stitches so the pain can make you forget. Look,” he lowers his voice to barely above a whisper, “I don’t know how bad Taeyong hurt you. I never will. I don’t even know why he broke up with you because you won’t tell me, and that’s fine. But you can’t just keep pulling these stupid stunts in the name of coping.”

“You helped me with the stupid stunts,” Doyoung argues, and he knows it’s a loss.

“Once, okay. Twice, sure. But thrice, four times, five?” Yuta’s eyes are wide now, his hold on Doyoung’s face almost painful. “Just what the hell are you trying to do to yourself?”

“I don’t know.” The tears come before Doyoung can stop them, and soon, they’re sliding down onto Yuta’s palms. “I don’t know.”

Yuta sighs, and brushes off each tear that escapes past Doyoung’s lashes. His touch is gentle, careful, and Doyoung can’t help but remember Jaehyun’s words from a week back, when he still felt content with the world.

“Jae was right.”

“What?”

Doyoung blinks out more tears and Yuta wipes them away. “Jae told me something when we met for coffee. He was right.”

“Right about what?”

“That you would be an excellent boyfriend,” Doyoung whispers, and he knows the exact moment Yuta opens his mouth to retort. “But not for me. You’re not for me. And Taeyong’s not for me.” A piece of his heart jumps up into his throat and lodges there. He tries to swallow it down, but can't. “There’s...nobody out there for me.”

“Baby,” Yuta whispers, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Doyoung’s nose. His lips are chapped and smell like iron as they trail from Doyoung's nose to his cheeks. “Oh, Doie. Baby. My baby. What kind of bullshit are you spouting?”

“You know I’m right.” Doyoung knows he’s wrong. He can tell himself all the lies in the world, and he can tell Yuta even more, but his heart knows. It always will. Just because his brain is an idiot doesn’t mean all the other organs are affected quite the same way.

And Yuta knows this too, because his lips pull into the most tender smile Doyoung’s ever seen. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but the way he looks at Doyoung is so full of affection, so full of understanding, that nothing feels like it needs to be said.

“I love you,” Yuta finally says, when all of Doyoung’s tears have dried up. “I’ll always love you. But you and I both know that there’s other people out there who love you, too.”

His broken heart is screaming at him to deny it, but Doyoung wants to know. He has to know if Yuta’s being serious. He needs to know if all those meetings and visits and random bumping-into-each-other’s since the breakup meant something. Anything.

“Name one.”

“Jaehyun,” Yuta says easily, like he already had the name filed away and ready to go for this specific question. “And I’m sure you know it too, at this rate.”

“He doesn’t,” Doyoung immediately blurts, because his traitorous heart makes him a terrible liar.

Yuta shakes his head. “He does.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Have you ever fallen in love with a friend?”

Doyoung has. It’s how he got himself into this whole mess with Taeyong in the first place. “Jae never confirmed anything.”

“That’s just how Jae is,” Yuta sighs, gently leading Doyoung into their kitchen. He soaps up a washcloth and hands it to Doyoung for him to wipe down his hands with, before coming back to the table with two steaming mugs.

Doyoung exchanges the dirty cloth for a mug and watches as Yuta sits opposite him, his own mug in hand, eyeing him knowingly.

“How long?”

“Hm?”

“How long?” Doyoung echoes, staring down the coffee in his mug. It looks brown and murky, like his thoughts passed through a blender. “How long has Jae been into me?”

Yuta shrugs. “I don’t know. But I know a simp when I see one, and Jae’s a big simp for you, Doie.”

“How do you know?”

“You know that feeling you get, as a bystander, when you see two people and you can see the connection between them?” Yuta traces his finger idly along the sides of his mug, drawing nonsensical patterns into the lilac-painted ceramic. “I can see that between Jae and you. I see the way he looks at you sometimes. The way he tries to tell you lots of things without saying much. Even the way he draws changes.”

“So back at the cafe,” Doyoung starts, sipping his coffee slowly. “When you saw Jae drawing...you’re sure it was me?”

“My eyesight’s 20/20. I’m positive.”

“But he, like, never said anything to give it away.”

Yuta smiles around the rim of his mug as he takes a long, slow sip of his coffee. “Doie. You need a professional cryptographer to decipher what Jae’s thinking and all those goddamn codes he speaks in. He cares. Trust me, he does. Maybe he doesn’t show it in the best way, but I’m sure the guy has his reasons.”

A faint echo of Doyoung’s last conversation with Jaehyun rings in the back of his mind, growing increasingly louder, until it hits a deafening crescendo.

_‘Who do you love, Jung Jaehyun?’_

_‘You should know. The world’s only so big.’_

The world really is only so big. Of all the places Doyoung could’ve ended up, it’s in this university with all these people. Of all the people he could’ve befriended, it’s Taeyong’s group. Of all the people to break his heart, it’s Taeyong himself.

Of all the people he should see anytime, anywhere, it’s Jaehyun. Jaehyun, with his ridiculous scarves and all-seeing eyes and penchant for always knowing too much.

Of all the people to catch him in the peak of his descent into madness, it’s Jaehyun.

Of all the people in the world—almost eight billion at this point—it’s Jung fucking Jaehyun who has to be out in the middle of the godforsaken night right after Doyoung suffers the worst heartbreak of his life. It just had to be Jaehyun to catch him hauling half of a toilet as a petty act of revenge. It’s Jaehyun who kept the damning secret under metaphorical lock and key like revealing the truth could mean the end of his own life, and not Doyoung’s.

Jaehyun.

_Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun._

“I should know,” Doyoung murmurs, wrapping his hands around his mug. It’s the same one he offered Jaehyun the other day. “The world is only so big.”

Yuta blinks at him. “What?”

Doyoung’s an idiot. He’s the biggest fucking idiot in the whole world and the next one over.

The world is so, so small.

“He was trying...god, he was trying to tell me. This entire time,” Doyoung huffs out, letting out a wet chuckle at the end. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, no. You’re not stupid,” Yuta cuts in. “You were just a little lost.”

“I am stupid.”

“Lost.”

“Stupid and lost.”

Yuta sighs in that long-suffering way of his when he finally loses all will to fight. It doesn’t make Doyoung feel any triumph or satisfaction. Not when Yuta’s bloody cuticles are staring him right in the face. Yuta hasn’t bitten his nails since high school. Doyoung hasn’t seen his hands bleed like that in almost six years.

Guilt wells inside him now. Rising slowly like the tide and filling his lungs until it physically hurts to breathe. He thinks he might be drowning.

“Look, maybe you should talk to him. One-on-one,” Yuta says softly. “Just...talk to him. Figure something out. I doubt it’s any easier for him to see you break down like this.”

“Talk to Jae?” Doyoung wipes his nose and grimaces when a string of snot trails behind on his sleeve. “When I’m fucking disgusting and pathetic? You’re outta your damn mind.”

“I didn’t say see him now, I just said maybe you _should_ see him. Preferably when you’re feeling better and in a nicer headspace,” Yuta says patiently. “Don’t you think he also deserves that much? If you’re gonna either pour your heart out to him or reject him, at least do it to his face.” He sets his mug down and begins picking at the torn skin around his fingers. Doyoung winces when a fresh droplet of blood trickles down the dip of Yuta’s cuticles.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make it worse.”

Yuta doesn’t stop. More blood pools in the dips between his nails and skin, and collect at the pad of his fingers. “I’ll stop,” he says, “When you stop destroying yourself like this.”

Doyoung feels like he should be angry, but he’s so, so tired. “You’re not being fair.”

“You haven’t been fair, either.”

They’ve played this game before, and Doyoung knows the consequences well enough. There is no winning party between him and Yuta. If taken the wrong way, the situation could stretch on for days. Weeks, even.

Someone has to yield.

Doyoung looks at Yuta—really takes the time to _look_ at him, and sees for the first time in a while how worn his best friend has become. Yuta’s thinner, the bags a little heavier under his eyes, and there’s something about his energy that’s just...sapped. Worn down, like a favorite shirt that’s been through one too many wash cycles. He looks like the embodiment of Doyoung’s emotional turmoil.

He looks exhausted.

So for the second time in his life, Doyoung raises the white flag.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always much appreciated and make my day!  
> Take care, lovelies! <3
> 
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